


Foxhill Part II  -  Dead and Buried

by Blaumeise



Series: Foxhill [4]
Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Foxhill, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:46:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 118,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaumeise/pseuds/Blaumeise
Summary: If Duff had thought he would get some time to enjoy his newly found love life, he had been wrong. People refuse to stay dead, vampires create trouble around Foxhill and as if that wasn’t enough, Izzy’s past has another surprise to offer.Duff starts to wonder how much he really knows about the man he calls his lover…
Relationships: Axl Rose/Slash | Saul Hudson, Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin
Series: Foxhill [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980472
Comments: 489
Kudos: 72





	1. Jinxed

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second novel in the Foxhill universe. It might be possible to read it as stand-alone story, but I wouldn't recommend it. I suppose it will be a little darker than the first one. 
> 
> ETA: Turned out, it will be a lot darker than the first one.

Duff took off one of his shoes and put it onto the shelf Axl had indicated. Beautiful. No, that was not enough. Never had he seen such perfect arrangement. The scuffed brown leather complemented the colour of the surrounding boxes in a picture he could not have imagined in his wildest dream. A veritable enrichment of the shop’s atmosphere. The clients of _A. Rose’s Herbs and Spices_ , Stakesby Road, Foxhill, Whittlingsfield, Great Britain, were in for a whole new experience. 

Axl was a genius, and he had the privilege to serve as his humble assistant. 

“Now pick it up, and put it onto the bottom shelf over there,” Axl said while he scratched Slash behind his ears. The shapeshifting cat sat on the counter and watched the scene. For a second, Duff thought he saw amusement in the amber eyes, but he did not have time to wonder about the reason. He had a job to do.

The moment he had completed the order, he was caught in a swirl of happiness. Waves of delight washed over him, and he was ready to drown in bliss. Yes, this was better. Amazing. He hadn’t thought a higher level of taste was possible, but he had been utterly wrong. Thank God, Axl had realized it right away. And entrusted him with such an important task.

“Good boy,” Axl said. 

Duff, both touched and elated by the unexpected praise, grew at least an inch. Could his life get any better? Yes, it could!

“Hop on one leg,”

Hopping on one leg was exactly what had been missing to bring the day to perfection. He would do this for the rest of the day, no, week. Month even. His muscles started to hurt, his breath was coming shorter, but who cared? He was made to hop, and hop he would. 

The shop bell jingled as somebody opened the door. Duff waved. 

“Hi Izzy,” he said, hopping out of the way to let him enter.

It was raining and water dripped off his hat, yet Izzy refused to come in, just stood in the doorway and watched. He had that pinched look he always got after dealing with the council of Foxhill, the one that meant he would be grumpy for the rest of the day. Maybe he should invite him to join in. Hopping would surely do him good. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Izzy asked with a frown. “Are you …. Axl!”

“Hop over here, Duff,” Axl said. 

It was the perfect direction. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Hopping in one place was not comparable to hopping forward and the counter was exactly where he wanted to be. 

“Good boy.” 

Duff beamed. 

Axl held up an amulet on a leather string. “Touch!”

He was allowed to touch it? That beautiful artefact? He reached for it, closed his fingers about the piece of unprecedented craftsmanship and …

“Oh my God!” Duff stumbled. On his way down to the floor, he slammed his head onto the counter. It hurt. And he deserved it. 

A pair of dusty pantlegs appeared in his line of vision, scuffed at the knees and in urgent need of laundering. And mending. There was a tear at the bottom. 

“Want your shoe?” 

Somebody touched the top of his head. Duff was not sure he would be able to look up without dying from mortification, but eventually, he would have to face people again, so why not right away? The shoe dangled from its laces in Izzy’s raised hand. Embarrassed he collected himself off the ground. 

“Thanks,” he muttered and put it on. 

His left thigh was hurting. How long had he been hopping? Would he ever have stopped or would he have kept going until his leg had broken off? 

Izzy tossed the dripping hat onto the counter. His hair, damp and mussed, appeared darker than it was. Spring was gracing Whittlingsfield with ample amounts of rain. 

“How did it happen?” he asked curiously. 

Duff wished he knew. He looked at Slash who, now that the show was over, had stretched out on the counter and was dozing off under gentle belly rubs. 

“How it happened?” Axl set his jaw. No more belly rubs for Slash. They were in for a tirade “It happened because you still haven’t started to train him. And because he forgot to wear his gloves around the shop. Again. And touched an obediantor. A freshly primed one. Was still reacting to me.”

“And you decided to what? Have a bit of fun?” 

Izzy did his best to glower, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Whose side was he on? Duff seriously considered spending the night in his own bed. 

“I decided to teach him a lesson.” Axl put the amulet into a box. “I swear, Izzy, he’s like a goddamn magpie. Anything shiny around, he’s got to wrap his grubby fingers around it.”

Did they have to talk about him as if he wasn’t in the room? Sadly, he wasn’t in a position to protest because, as usual, Axl’s dressing down was deserved. He had forgotten to put on his protective gloves and magic had hit him full in the face. 

He looked around for something to busy himself with and ignore the clamour. When Izzy and Axl got at each other, it was best to stay out of the way, or one ended as collateral damage. Slash seemed to live according to the same principle because he hopped off the counter and joined Hector, the pint-sized magical guard dog, in its basket under the table. 

Getting his gloves might be a good idea. Where had he left them? Sometimes he was convinced, they had a mind of their own and were hiding out of sheer spite.

“Do us all a favour, Izzy, and start teaching him.” Axl crossed his arms, doing his best to stare Izzy down. “You’re his employer, not me. If you want him to survive around us, take care that he knows the basics.”

“Yes, yes,” Izzy shrugged out of his coat. Another garment that should find its direct way into the laundry pile. Had he really been to the council looking like that? “I was a bit busy lately.”

“With what?” 

Axl was on a run. Normally Duff adored him like this, all righteously ignited, his hair redder than usual. On female days his dress would flutter around him while he gesticulated his agitation into the air. Today he was male and there wasn’t any fluttering, but still, it was a sight to behold. Unfortunately, all the heat was directed at him, and Axl never failed to make him feel like a schoolboy, ready to bend over for a well-deserved spanking. 

He found the gloves where he had left them, in a drawer under the working table in the corner of the little shop. Hector peered over the rim of his basket but didn’t think the upheaval was interesting enough to miss out on his nap. His eyes closed again after he had made room for Slash. For a moment, Duff considered going up to his attic and do the same. 

He put his hands into the giant gloves, and they shrunk around his fingers to their usual perfect fit. Right. He should get to work. Sorting the batch of amulets Axl had enchanted the day before and put them into individual boxes. Magical amulets. Which made you do stupid things if you touched them. He sat down and picked up the first one. They were pretty, he had to admit. Some type of pale green gemstone with red sprinkles all over them. Who would buy something this evil? Disgusted he arranged it on the velvet lining and closed the lid. At least there weren’t many. Two dozen all in all. 

“Your responsibility, Izzy, do something about it.” Axl tapped his foot in a staccato rhythm against the floor. “And take your goddamned hat where it belongs.”

“My what? Oh. Sorry.” With an apologetic smile, Izzy picked the hat off the counter before he joined him at the working table. “Duff? You coming?”

Duff gave him a wary look. Was he in for more scolding? Being the same person’s employee and lover was sometimes less than comfortable. Just because Izzy brought him to the heights of pleasure didn’t mean he would shy away from giving him hell every so often. And while Duff had to admit that most of the time there was a good reason, it made things between them awkward. 

It took somebody more confident than Duff to not feel inadequate at times. Not only was Izzy his boss, he was also a seasoned wizard with amazing abilities and one of the handful of people worldwide who could open doors between different realms. And Duff was … a non-magical Irish immigrant without any redeeming qualities that might offset the imbalance. 

Izzy crumpled the brim of his ratty old hat. “Axl is right, somehow.”

“Yes, I am!” Axl shouted from the counter and Izzy gave him an irritated look before his attention returned to the true culprit. 

“I’ve been … uhm … negligent. But …,” he sighed. “Really, Duff, wear the goddamned gloves!”

Duff lifted his hands. 

“Good. But… maybe not now because we’ve got to talk.”

He peeled the gloves off and put them back into the drawer. Izzy dropped his hat onto the working table, but before Axl exploded, Duff picked it up to hang it on the hook in the corridor. Izzy put his coat on the one next to it and kicked dirt-encrusted boots into a corner. Normally, Duff would have made a mental note to clean them, but a week ago Lucy the imp had returned to help out at the household behind _A. Rose’s Herbs and Spices_. Since then, Duff was exempt from domestic services. 

Kate, the resident werewolf and only housemaid so far, had been more than excited about the addition. Duff had almost felt offended. Yes, he preferred assisting Izzy as magical co-investor or helping out Axl with all the exciting items in the shop, but whenever there had been time left, he had taken care of his part of household chores. 

There was no denying, however, that Lucy did a far better job. Kate now dedicated most of her time to the kitchen, while the imp tackled everything else. So far, Duff had seen neither her nor the little boy she apparently brought along, but the house was sparkling clean.

Izzy’s bedroom was on the first storey and had fallen victim to the cleaning frenzy, too. Duff was never sure whether he missed the familiar chaos or liked the well-ordered shelves and cupboards. He definitely didn’t complain about the clean sheets and fluffed pillows. 

“Sit.” 

Izzy pointed at a chair, but Duff opted for the bed. The chair, a carved monstrosity, was an abomination when it came to comfort, and if he was about to be scolded, being comfortable was the minimum requirement. Also, seeing him on his bed might soften Izzy’s annoyance, and Duff was not above using whatever means were available to him. 

“You know what has happened?” Izzy perched on the table and scratched at one of the multiple scorches his experiments had burned into the dark wood. “Down there?”

“I was jinxed,” Duff muttered. 

Izzy snorted. “You don’t say.” 

He pushed away from the table and joined him on the bed. The previously firm set of his mouth softened, as he reached out to brush a strand of hair out of his face, Duff leant into his touch. 

“Why does Axl even make amulets like that?” he asked. “Really, I don’t see any reason why a decent person would need one. Normally he’s all … all.”

“Uptight and constipated?” 

Izzy smirked and continued to finger his face. Couldn’t they skip all this and get rid of their clothes instead? 

“Ethically sound,” Duff corrected. 

One of Axl’s rules was that you did not take away somebody’s free will. Unless you had a very good reason. An amulet like that didn’t seem to be something he would mass produce. 

Izzy chuckled while he returned to playing with Duff’s hair. “They can be … fun. Kind of. Some people use them to enhance their love life. And that’s what Axl makes them for. He’s pretty careful in who he sells them to. And they are single-use. You have to return them for recharging.”

“Fun?” Duff sat up straight and pulled out of Izzy’s grip. “Fun? Yes, Axl was having fun. I’m pretty sure he was the only one.”

“Slash was having, too.” 

“And you, from the way you’re talking.” 

Duff flipped back on the bed and covered his face with his hands. Yes, he was behaving like a child, but being the only non magical person in a household where even the dog had amazing abilities, could be taxing. 

“Everybody but you, eh,” Izzy’s fingers, deprived of Duff’s face, landed on his thigh and continued their explorations there. Couldn’t he keep his bloody hands to himself? “Tell me how you were feeling.”

“Huh?” Duff sat up. 

“While you were obeying Axl’s orders. How did it make you feel?”

“Ugh.” Duff thought about it. “Good,” he admitted. And that conduced significantly to his humiliation. “Awesome, actually. Like what I was doing was the only thing that mattered. And it was a privilege to be singled out for it.”

Izzy wetted his lip with the tip of his tongue. His lids fluttered downward for a second before he looked up again. 

“Imagine you wouldn’t be asked to do some stupid shit like hopping on one leg.” His voice turned husky. “But … uhm … something stimulating. And get rewarded by a bit more than a ‘good boy’ here and there.”

“You mean…,” Duff felt his ears grow hot. Had Izzy said what he thought he was saying? “That would be … wouldn’t that be like … violation?”

“Not if you agreed before you start.”

“You mean …” Duff was sure his eyes were bulging out of his face. “People agree to … have that done to them?”

“Yes.” 

Now Izzy was laughing, all suggestiveness gone. Great. Next thing he would tell him that he was awfully innocent for somebody who had once earned his living in a brothel. 

“That’s what you mean when you say you want to add magic to our love life?” 

Duff wasn’t sure he liked the idea. Yes, it had felt good, but the aftermath was far from delightful. 

“No.” Izzy sobered up. “Because I give as good as I take. And I would never agree to be switched off like that.”

Thank God for small mercies. 

“Somebody might ask you to spill all your dark secrets,” Duff said. “And you’d enjoy telling them.”

“Secrets?” Izzy raised his eyebrows. “You know my big secret.”

One of them, Duff wanted to say but kept his mouth shut. While he had blurted out all his own sins over a pint of beer in a pub, to a man who at that time had been half a step up from total stranger, Izzy was a closemouthed bastard. He only ever gave away what he couldn’t hide anymore. Trust was nothing he offered freely, and Duff didn’t fool himself into thinking he had made that list yet. Axl maybe. But even Axl was in the dark about a huge part of Izzy’s past, and those two had been inseparable since childhood. 

“Would you like to do it to others?” Duff asked. “If you wouldn’t feel obligated to give back?”

Izzy took a moment to think about it and Duff was a little appalled by the lack of instant ‘no’. 

“As you noticed, Axl is too ethically sound to give them to just anybody. I doubt he would trust me with one. And he keeps them in the locked cupboard in the shop and, as much as I hate to admit it, his lock spells are better than mine. I would have to saw through the wood if I wanted to break in.”

Thank God for that, too but it wasn’t a ‘no’. 

“Also, not really my cup of tea. As I see it, if I can’t make you feel special without the help of magic, then I have no business taking you to bed. So … any complaints so far?”

Duff shook his head, sure that in addition to his ears, his whole face had turned crimson. Why were they having this discussion? Oh, right, because he had stupidly touched magical items. Again. And then he had asked idiotic questions about things he wasn’t ready to hear. 

“But, as you brought up the topic,” Izzy’s hand was still on his thigh and now his index finger rubbed tiny circles into the muscle, “there are ways to enhance the experience. Not fake it. And, yes, I’d like to show you.” Before Duff had time to react, Izzy raised his hand. He felt oddly bereft by the loss of touch. “I know your misgivings regarding the use of magic, and that’s absolutely fine. No need to flog a dead horse.”

Duff closed his mouth. He didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t the use of magic per se. Yes, if Father O’Brian was right, magic users went to hell. The whole community of Foxhill was destined for that fate, and not by their fault. 

He had once tried to explain to Izzy that he was sure, there was a nice place in hell for magical people because everything else would be unfair. And had earned nothing but laughter for his troubles. To all of them, Axl, Izzy, Slash, his religious beliefs were a never-ending source of amusement. Maybe they were correct and all he had been taught growing up was wrong. He wished by God he was the one who was talking nonsense. But there was no way to be sure and so far, he hadn’t managed to quiet the nagging voice at the back of his mind that kept listing all his unatoned sins.

Izzy was magical and therefore never had a choice. Duff’s case was different. He might have stumbled in by accident, but staying had been a conscious decision. One day he would pay. No cosy little hell quarter, but fire and brimstone. 

Still, hell or no hell, that wasn’t the reason behind his objections. He was willing to take the risk. 

No, the use of magic would increase the imbalance between them. If Izzy didn’t see it that way, then there was no need to push his nose into that especially smelly pile of shit, but they were not equal. 

It started with the few years of age difference and ended with the gigantic gap regarding abilities and experiences. Izzy had navigated foreign worlds, skipped through dimensions as if they were his personal backyard. And Duff? Had travelled from Ireland to England, run out of money halfway to London, and stumbled by accident into a magical shop where the resident wizard had taken pity and offered him a job. 

When they were making love, he wanted it to be between two men, and not the wizard and his pathetic, non-magical assistant. But explaining would take far more words than he called his own and, for purely selfish reasons, he refused to direct Izzy’s attention to it. 

“Anyway,” Izzy said. “Axl is right. I need to train you”.

“To use magic?” Duff asked. 

He would gladly risk another level of the fiery pit but according to Axl, whenever non-magicals attempted to grasp at what little magic was accessible to them, disaster followed like hell would the pale rider. 

“No. To resist it.” 

Izzy rubbed both hands over his face. He looked tired, and Duff wasn’t surprised. He had been invited – no, summoned – to a meeting with the council of Foxhill and while it was at least a magical administration, authorities, in general, were stressful to him. 

“I should teach you how to recognized that you are being bewitched and fight it off.”

“That’s possible?” No more embarrassing accidents. Now Izzy had his attention.

“Yes.” Izzy looked at him with a rueful smile. “And I should have started months ago, but …”

“It’s all right.” 

Duff bent forward and kissed him. Izzy kissed back automatically before he sat back and gave him a confused look. As if he wasn’t sure what had earned the sudden caress. 

Concerning himself with other people, even his own lover, was not Izzy’s strength. Most of the time he did not realize that he lacked attentiveness, it just didn’t come naturally to him. 

Duff knew he was welcome and cherished. Whenever he expressed his wishes, Izzy was ready to fulfill them, but he was not a thoughtful person. It had taken Duff a while to reconcile himself with it, to stop it from fuelling his insecurities. Axl had been more than a little helpful when it came to the correct handling of and care for Izzy Stradlin, and eventually, he had realized: he didn’t need Izzy to shower him with attention. He was a grown-up man, and he had a mouth, and he could spell out his requests. At least those that wouldn’t make him feel like a needy little child. 

Still, whenever Izzy did show consideration, even admitted that he had been lacking before, it deserved a reward. 

“Yes, we can … how about tomorrow? I need to get some stuff done before and I should probably compile some ideas about how to do it and not just hit you with spells and expect you to throw them back at me.”

“That would be awesome,” Duff said. 

He wasn’t holding his breath. Tomorrow something else would come up and make Izzy delay his promise. But once it was on his agenda, it would eventually happen. That was another thing he had learned about his lover: Izzy kept his promises. 

“Great, in that case…” he looked around. “Lucy has cleaned up again.” He didn’t sound happy. 

Duff hid his amusement.

“She’s a great help.” 

“Yes, but I can’t find anything.” Izzy stood up and opened one of the cupboards full of magical books and supplies. “She puts everything …”

“… where it’s supposed to be?” 

“Yes. That.” 

Duff crawled off the bed. “See you for dinner?” 

“Sure. Do.” Izzy was pulling random books off the shelf and piled them up on the table. 

“Have fun,” Duff said, but he wasn’t sure, Izzy was still hearing him.


	2. Awakened

When Axl abstained from humiliating other people, he was one of the most remarkable persons Duff had ever met, and not because one never knew whether he would wake up male or female after going to sleep. 

As he returned to the shop, Elsie, Kate’s non-magical little sister had arrived. Unlike others, she was diligent at wearing her gloves and played with a set of enchanted marbles on the counter. 

“Axl taught me a new spell,” she said. 

“Really?” Duff asked. 

Axl, sitting behind one of his ledgers and busy with keeping his books up to date, pointed silently at the drawer of the working table. With a final burn of embarrassment, Duff pulled out his own protective gear. 

He looked for Slash, but the shapeshifter was gone. Elsie liked to ruffle his fur and while Slash was not averse to petting from people who were not Axl, he was particular when it came to how it was done. 

“Yes. Look.” 

She lined up the marbles in a neat row, placed a gloved finger onto one of them, and declaimed something very wordy and very Latin. At the same time, unnoticed by Elsie in her concentration, Axl flicked his little finger against the outer marble, and light shot through the complete array.

“Awesome,” Duff said. 

“Pack them into the box and go help your sister,” Axl said without looking up from the book. “You know she doesn’t like it if you’re getting too witchy.”

Elsie’s face contorted for a moment, but then she bagged the marbles and put them away. She would talk back to Kate, to Duff, even to Izzy when she felt exceptionally brave, but if Axl asked her to do something she obeyed. And all that without touching wretched amulets. 

When they were alone, Axl gave him a long, pensive look, and Duff escaped by resuming his previous task.

“Izzy set up a training plan?” 

“Tomorrow,” he replied. 

“Good. That means next week if you’re lucky.” He closed the ledger and stood up. 

“It’s why you did it, didn’t you?” Duff interrupted the amulet packaging. “Have me make an ass out of myself?”

“Coincidence,” Axl leant against the counter, his feet crossed at his ankles, one hand playing with the cuff of the other sleeve. “Was time to get it through his thick skull. But I did not set you up to touch the amulet. That’s something you managed all on your own.”

“Thanks,” Duff replied while he closed another box. 

“For the lesson or because I kicked Izzy’s ass for you?” Axl folded his hands in front of his belly and watched him from under lowered lids. 

Duff thought about it. “Both, I guess.”

“Good.” 

They were interrupted when a client entered and demanded goat horn, but was unhappy with the breed of goat the horn came from. While Axl prided himself on outstanding quality of whatever he sold, his attitude was an acquired taste, and Duff wasn’t surprised when the interaction resulted in a shouting match.

“Asshole,” Axl muttered when the man finally left without buying anything. 

It was a slow day, but there was still a constant trickle of customers, until half an hour before closing time, a familiar face showed up in the doorway. 

“Constable Carter,” Axl said with a hint of resignation in his voice. He entrenched himself behind the counter but turned his full attention on the newcomer. “I didn’t expect you to honour our humble shop with your business for a second time.” 

He cocked his head a little as if waiting for an explanation. 

Curiously, Duff looked up from his work. Constable Carter, a slightly overweighed man in his forties, knew him from a professional interlude he preferred to forget about: his days at Mrs Padget’s brothel.

The constable closed the door behind himself. 

“Have we met?” he asked confused as he pulled his hat. “Mr Rose, I assume?”

During their last encounter, Axl had been female and while the resemblance was uncanny, the policeman probably made the same mistake Duff had once committed himself and thought he was dealing with a sibling. 

“No.” Axl raised his chin a little. “And yes. How can I help you? Some fenugreek for example? To spice up your curries?”

“I’m not fond of exotic food,” Constable Carter held his hat with both hands as he approached the counter. “In fact, I’ve come to talk to the wizard. Mr Stradlin.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Axl’s voice dripped with irony. “Duff?” 

Duff stood up. He knew the deal. 

“If you don’t mind, sir?” he peeled off his gloves and motioned towards the backdoor. 

“So, you’re still here, McKagan?” the constable asked when Duff showed him to the library where Izzy received his clients. 

“Is that a surprise?” he waited for their visitor to pick an armchair. He didn’t.

“Not really. You seemed at ease the last time. Are you sure you’re not a supernatural creature yourself?”

“Magical,” Duff corrected automatically. “And, no, I’m not.” 

Much to his regret, but it was better to quench any suspicions right away. Magical people were not treated with lenience in Whittlingsfield, and he wasn’t keen on being dragged to the administration for an assessment of non-existent abilities. 

“Miss Rose not in today?” 

Constable Carter didn’t manage to hide his disappointment. Like a lot of men, he had been smitten with Axl’s female persona. The allure – a side effect of the spell that caused him to switch gender more often than Izzy did his underwear – was attached to his female version and made him the most bewitching witch in all of England.

Duff still gave him a sharp look. “She is indisposed.”

“Send her my regards. I didn’t know she had a brother.” Constable Carter wasn’t looking at Duff. Instead, he inspected the books on the shelves. They were harmless, literature that could be find in any non-magical library anywhere. Anything more exciting was locked into the laboratory. “He needs to be registered with the administration.”

“He is,” Duff replied. 

“The registry shows Miss Rose as the owner of this building. No brother is mentioned.” 

He had looked them up? Of course, he had. 

“He’s just visiting. But he’s listed with his own administration.” 

It came out a little sullener than intended, but Duff felt annoyance tickle. So Axl was registered under his female version. What did they want to do? Etch a second tattoo into his skin? It was bad enough that he had to see Izzy’s every time they made love. So far nobody had managed to come up with a justification that reconciled him with the idea of branding people like horses. 

“For how long? Long term visitors are required to register for the duration of their stay.”

Now the policeman did look at him and Duff became wary. What was the reason for his visit? He had never seemed interested in making Izzy’s or Axl’s life difficult, but being a magical person sometimes equalled dancing a tightrope. Missteps were penalised quickly and without clemency, and Izzy had a tendency to toe the line of what was and wasn’t allowed. 

“I don’t know.” He offered a guileless smile and made sure to level out his voice. “I’m just a servant. Should I go and fetch the wizard?” 

“If he’s at home.”

“Should be. I’ll check.”

He made a brief stop in the kitchen and asked Kate to prepare tea, then he went upstairs to fetch ‘the wizard’. 

“Constable Carter?” Izzy’s mouth turned into a firm line when Duff pulled him off one of his books. “What does he want?”

“Didn’t ask.” 

He tried to catch a glimpse of the text. He had gotten a lot better at reading and was now able to decipher complicated words while looking over people’s shoulders, but Izzy closed the book before he managed. 

_Vampyres_ the title read. At least he wasn’t the only one whose orthography left much to be desired. 

“I guess that leaves the finding out with me, huh?” Izzy cast him a lopsided grin. 

“At least you’re awake this time,” Duff replied. “Might make for a better impression.”

Izzy rolled up an old newspaper and made moves as if to slap him. 

Constable Carter’s first impression of Izzy Stradlin, magical investigator, had been of a creature resembling a freshly resurrected corpse, ready to disintegrate into separate limbs and organs any moment. A result of a day spent under the influence of the opium pipe. It might be the reason why he was firm in his conviction that Izzy was a seedy, disreputable, not to be trusted individual. He was not wrong there, Duff had to admit, as he now closed the library door behind them. But Izzy was also the only independent magical investigator in all of Whittlingsfield and as such the authority when it came to unusual activities within town limits. 

“Constable Carter.” Izzy dropped into the other armchair, legs slightly apart, hands placed on the armrests in a posture of nonchalance. That left the couch to Duff. 

To nobody’s surprise, Slash had squeezed in right behind them and joined Duff on the sofa. Kate appeared and poured tea like a proper housemaid, while Izzy and the police officer exchanged fake civilities. The dislike was mutual. 

“I’m surprised you’re consulting me again,” Izzy finally cut to the chase. He was not one for extended courtesies. “Is something amiss with the wizard you have on hand? I sincerely hope he is in good health. I heard he is … overindulging when it comes to gin.”

A sharp shot from somebody who was not only overindulging when it came to gin, but also whisky and opium, Duff thought. 

Constable Carter sipped tea. The last time he had still been reluctant to consume anything at all, so at least he had scratched getting poisoned off his list of worries. 

“Mr Tremblay is certainly a competent wizard,” the policeman started, sliding right over the accusation that he was a drunk, “but he is not available for hands-on crime investigations. And as you were so very helpful last time …”

Somehow Izzy managed to keep his face absolutely deadpan. Their last helpful interference had ended with a burned down church and an illegally opened portal into one of the Fea realms. 

“Yes, I remember you said something about owing me a favour.” Izzy raised his chin half an inch and looked down his nose at the policeman. His nose, long and sharp, was made for looking down at people. 

Constable Carter nodded. His hands closed into loose fists while he waited for a request, but nothing came forward. It had been just a reminder about who was indebted to whom. 

“Back to the problem,” he finally said, hands relaxing, when Izzy kept sipping tea as if they were accidentally frequenting the same gentleman’s club. “We had two cases of people coming back from the dead.”

“How long after they died?” Izzy seemed more interested in some tealeaves at the bottom of his cup than in the question.

“A day. Each time.”

“What’s so unusual about that?” He was done with the tealeaf inspection and took another sip. “Happens now and then, doesn’t it?”

“Not as often as you seem to assume.”

Izzy put his cup onto the little table, leant back, and folded his hands over his stomach. Duff was short of asking him if he should go and fetch him a cigar and the newspaper. 

“They probably weren’t dead.”

“They did not only … wake, but miraculously recovered from the disease that had killed them. A girl with pneumonia just stood up and went to play with her dolls and a sixteen-year-old boy who died from his injuries after a horse accident is walking again.”

“Doctors make mistakes all the time,” Izzy said. “I’m sure he told you so himself.”

“That’s the next point,” Constable Carter put down his cup, too, the time for drinking tea apparently over. His fingers drummed against his thigh. “We have a new physician in Whittlingsfield.”

“Oh?” Izzy bent forward expectantly. “Somebody I should know? In case we run into each other at Lady Worley’s next soiree?” He parted his lips until one might think he was smiling. Or baring his teeth.

“Yes. I mean, no. He moved in a month ago. Came highly recommended. Took over the empty surgery down Newroad.”

“And?” Izzy folded his hands under his chin. “I’m sorry, but a physician down Newroad would be outside the means of anybody in Foxhill, so I’m afraid, I can’t contribute to the experience reports.” 

Constable Carter’s eyes narrowed further. “Both patients were his.”

“Maybe he’s not as good as he claims to be? You should reconsider the authority of those recommendations. Sometimes professionals come highly recommended because somebody else is glad to see the back of them.”

“Mr Stradlin…,”

“Constable,” Izzy interrupted him. He sat up straight. “The last time you had me look at dead bodies it was a waste of time. I’m sure you don’t want to owe me another favour for something equally pointless. This is not the first time somebody came to during their wake. It will happen again. There won’t be anything nefarious behind it.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.” Constable Carter’s stubbornness rivalled Izzy’s. Either that or he was fond of punishment. “And regarding the last time … I am aware that the Irish disease vanished as fast as it had come up. Interestingly, at the same time, the church burned down. And we got an anonymous tissue sample that contained arsenic. Only a day after the late Mrs Prendergast’s grave was desecrated and the new Mrs Prendergast had vanished from the face of the earth.”

Duff’s stomach churned, but Izzy remained as unfazed as before. He even managed to hold eye contact without a single blink. Slash and Axl had done the digging, while he and Izzy had been lounging about in the cottage on the moor. 

“I don’t follow your line of thinking, Constable.”

“No, why would you. Getting you involved, sir, might have appeared pointless at that time, but it sure kicked off an interesting sequence of events.”

“You seem adamant on finding correlations where I can only see coincidences” Izzy’s eyes turned hard as steel. “Look, Constable, I’ll make you an offer. When did this new doctor start to declare the death of living people?”

“About a month ago.”

“Right. If a third miracle healing takes place within … two weeks? I’ll have a look at it.”

The offer didn’t end the staring contest. 

“I’d prefer if you had a look at it now.”

“And I’d prefer if the administration of Whittlingsfield stopped treating us like discretionary objects, yet here we are.”

Constable Carter looked offended. He hadn’t expected a rejection. His mistake. The last time he had caught Izzy unawares and not at full capacity. Today was different. 

Izzy stood up. “One more case and I’ll have a look. And while I would love to keep offering free consultations to the law, I have to earn my living just like the next man. My assistant will inform you about my fees. Until then: good evening, sir.”

Was he really leaving them alone? Yes, Duff was alone with Slash in cat form and an unhappy police officer. 

“What is his problem?” Constable Carter rubbed both hands over his face. “Is it a family trait or did he develop this special brand of obnoxiousness all on his own?” 

Explaining that would have taken more time than Duff was willing to sacrifice. 

“I can give you a list of our prices, sir.” 

He stood up, opened the desk, and in his best handwriting, wrote their going rates onto a sheet of stationery. 

The last had been his idea. Izzy was not good at negotiating his worth and Duff had decided that the price had to be set before, not after the case was solved. Also, that the first rate had to be in advance and that extra payment was due in case expensive potion ingredients, amulets or crystals had to be used. Which meant that they needed a tally of those. 

Axl had been all in favour, had shown him how to list ingredients under correct names and amounts and where to find the costs for everything they used. The biggest chunk of work had been to make Izzy scribble whatever he blew up onto a piece of scrap paper so that Duff could add it to the ledger he had started. His limited schooling had made the kick off a bit bumpy, but he had quickly gotten the hang of it. 

Izzy had agreed under the condition that Duff took care of all the extra work and didn’t bother him with any of it. A few months later, however, when he had noticed a significant rise in income, his resistance had dwindled. It was almost impossible to talk Izzy into anything he did not want, but if proven wrong, he had no problems to admit his errors. 

“Does he listen to you?” Constable Carter asked when he took the list. 

His eyebrows shot up, and he cast Duff a wide-eyed look. Perhaps the mark-up to each section was exaggerated, but Duff figured that Izzy deserved a bit of a rise for being extra aggravated. It was the police running down their door, not the other way round.

“Sometimes. Why?” 

“Make him see reason. I know he doesn’t trust me and to a certain degree, I do understand why. But something here is not as it should be. I might regret it later, but …”

“But?” Duff asked as he accompanied the constable back to the shop. 

“Too many coincidences within too little time. I’ll see what I can do about … this.” He read through the list again. “He should be able to dress a lot better if these are his standard fees,” he muttered as Duff ushered him through the shop and out of the door. 

Axl turned the sign to ‘closed’ and locked. 

“What did he want?”

Duff gave him a rundown. 

“Izzy declined? Good.”

“Why?” Duff asked. 

He still didn’t get it. There was so much friction between Foxhill and the administration. Wouldn’t it be helpful if relationships got better? Did they have to dance around each other like duellists? 

“I don’t know,” Axl said. “I have a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“I thought Izzy was the one with the premonitions,” Slash said behind them.

Duff startled. He had gotten a lot better at not jumping when Slash suddenly shifted, but now and then it did happen. 

“You don’t need premonitions to know that Izzy and the police don’t go together well. Come on, guys. Dinner’s ready.”

He turned off the light and Duff was left with the choice to either follow or stand around in the dark.


	3. Bewitched

At Stakesby Road, Duff had learned, one could sit down for dinner without a worry in the world and stand up half an hour later with a plan that surely would get one of them killed the next day.

“I need to do something about the vampire infestation,” Izzy said through a mouth full of mutton. “I have let things slide for months now.”

“Let things slide?” Axl replied after swallowing. 

He was the only one of them who exhibited something like table manners, not only because he was the stepson of a reverend, but also because Miss Agatha had been particular that way. Sometimes Duff wondered how he managed to survive in between their bunch of savages. 

“Slide? You shot the last hunting party to dust.”

“There shouldn’t have been a last hunting party.” Izzy emphasized his point by stabbing his fork into the air. “They should have stayed in their own bloody territory.” 

“You’re saying it yourself,” Slash said softly. “It’s been months, and nobody came back. Maybe they were hunting without Ashwin’s approval.”

“Who’s Ashwin?” Duff asked. And why would he approve of vampires hunting in Foxhill? Or … anywhere, really?

“Their lord and master,” Izzy spat the words out as if they were leaving a bad taste on his tongue. “Runs this special nest … since ever. No idea. Was already there when I moved to Foxhill. He’s older than the dirt he’s made from.”

“You know him by name?” Duff couldn’t believe it. 

“It’s always good to know whatever there is to know about your enemy,” Axl said. “And, yes, familiarizing yourself with your local vampire population, is a precaution you should take. They can get really dangerous, if you don’t keep them in check.”

“Exactly!” Izzy stabbed another point into the air.

“Doesn’t mean you have to kill yourself doing it,” Axl said. “And you’re dripping sauce everywhere.”

“Sorry.” Izzy put the fork back down onto his plate. 

Torn, Duff poked around on his own plate. On the one hand he agreed with Slash and Axl to let sleeping vampires lie, but he had learned that Izzy’s instincts were reliable. If he was worried, there was likely something to be worried about.

“There was a case over in Hunston,” Izzy said. “That’s less than ten miles outside town limits. And one in Hidderton Cove. Same distant, different direction. They’re drawing a circle around us.”

“But they’re staying away,” Axl said. “You left an impression.”

“I promised to burn down their goddamn lair!” Izzy pricked his fork into a potato as if he was ramming a stake into a vampire heart. “They were waiting for me to do it. I didn’t. And now they are pestering me like horse flies.”

“Are you sure it’s about you?” Duff asked. It was scary to think that a horde of vampires had Izzy on their killing list, but he was more than a little paranoid at times. 

“It’s not about me,” Izzy replied. “It’s about Foxhill. Biggest magical community within a hundred miles. But I’m the only thing between them and the harvest of their dreams. You could say, it’s about me by association.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to hunt elsewhere?” Duff thought about their neighbours’ different denominations. More than a few should be far better at defending themselves than the average human being. 

“Easier, yes,” Izzy tossed the fork onto the plate, then, with a sigh, picked it up again and attacked another potato. Eating was not his forte as his skinny body could testify, but he had promised Duff to make a bit more of an effort. “Less rewarding.”

Duff waited. His housemates had gotten better at not assuming that he instinctively understood all the magical conventions everybody else was familiar with, but often enough it took an eternity for them to clue him in. 

“Blood is only part of their diet,” Axl finally showed pity. “The other part is energy. And the likes of us have more to offer.”

“Not only more, but also interesting flavours,” Slash added. 

“Oh,” Duff said. That made sense. 

He soaked the remainders of his last potato in sauce. 

“You see,” Izzy said. “They’re not hunting in the distant neighbourhood by accident. They’re closing in. And they’re trying to find how far I will tolerate it.”

“And now what?” Axl asked. “You’ll go over and set fire to their mansion? You and your trusty little package of matches?” Because, sure, nobody will expect you after your grand declaration?”

“I didn’t say that!” Izzy snapped and pushed his plate away, appetite apparently gone for good. “But it’s time to pay them a visit and come up with a plan.”

“A visit?” Duff dropped his knife. His voice was close to a shriek. “You want to go and pay a visit?” 

He crawled under the table to get his knife back.

“Not a real visit,” he heard Izzy say above the table. “Just … scout out the neighbourhood.”

“Sure,” Axl said. “It’s how far? Thirty miles? Forty? When do you want me to launch the rescue team? When you’re not back in a week?” 

“I talked to the council,” Izzy said. “They’ll pay for travel expenses. Two days, all in all.”

“So, it’s the council behind this?” Now Axl was bristling. “They are egging you on?” 

“They expressed their concern.” Izzy pulled the plate back to himself and made a mess out of his food without actually putting anything into his mouth. “And while they are all idiots, I agree.”

“I’ll come with you,” Slash said. 

He hadn’t finished his meal either, but he rarely did. Sometimes he started to complain an hour before dinner was ready about how hungry he was, and once the meal stood on the table, he barely picked at his food. There were a few things regarding Slash, Duff would never understand. 

“Awesome,” Axl sat back in a huff, crossing the arms over his chest. He was occupying the only chair in the kitchen, while the rest of them sat on benches. 

“No, that’s not …” 

“It is, Izzy.” It was rare for Slash to just interrupt Izzy or Axl, mostly he watched them argue with each other. And enjoyed it, Duff suspected. “You need somebody to slip past the guards, and I’m better at that.”

He was, Duff knew from experiences, but Slash hardly ever offered participation in their investigative adventures. It was Izzy’s job, and unlike he was in dire need of assistance, the others stayed out of it. 

“I’ll come, too, of course,” Duff said. 

Izzy opened his mouth as if he wanted to protest, but spared himself the trouble.

“I’ll ask Coopers if we can borrow the horse and cart. If the council pays, he should agree. We’ll leave tomorrow morning”

+++

The next morning, rain poured down on Foxhill as if the heavenly floodgates had opened to wash away all the dirt stains on God’s personal laundry list. 

Izzy pulled his hat into his face and raised the collar of his wool coat, but apart from that, he didn’t take any notice of the deluge. He held out his hand and took one of the bags Duff was dragging along. It contained Izzy’s vampire hunting equipment, plus whatever they would need for their overnight stay in an inn near Horley, a village of such unimportance that Duff had never heard about it in his life. 

The two other bags remained with Duff. The more valuable one, a linen sack packed by Kate, was filled with food. , and he tried to keep it halfway dry by walking as close to the line of houses as possible. The other one, hanging off the wetter shoulder, carried Slash in cat form. He had taken one look at the weather and refused to walk himself. 

Duff sweated under his oilskin. They didn’t have to go far, but the rest of their journey in an open horse cart called for water resistant clothes. 

Most of Whittlingsfield’s merchants refused to deliver to Foxhill, and so every other day, James Coopers, who lived three streets over from Stakesby Road, hitched Mabel, the draught horse, to a cart and took care of everybody’s orders from all over town. 

“Stradlin!” he said, when he noticed the two of them stepping into his yard. His round face was flushed from hauling barrels into a shed. Rolled up sleeves exposed sinewy forearms, and the apron stretched over his belly. He was one of those men who made fat look like muscle mass. “You’re early.”

They were late, in fact, but Izzy didn’t bother to correct him. He tipped a finger to his hat and muttered something halfway polite under his breath. 

“Suzette’s inside,” Coopers said. “Jimmy should be back with Mabel any moment. Go in, have a cup of tea. You know Suzie’s always happy to see you. She’d give me an earful if you just ran off without dropping in.”

“Thanks.” Izzy tipped his hat again, headed for the door, but then hesitated to knock. 

“You don’t want us to stand in the rain for half an hour, do you?” Duff asked. “Just because of your weird dislike of Mrs Coopers?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Izzy eyed the door with something close to revulsion, but then he swallowed whatever problem he had, knocked and opened. 

Duff wasn’t sure that the invitation was valid for him. Most of Foxhill’s citizens liked him well enough, but there were a few who were not happy about a non-magical person living in their middle. And Coopers was one of them. 

It was too wet to waste time on clarifying the question. Trusting that nobody would throw him out again, he followed Izzy, and escaped from the rain into the dryness of the house. 

“Izzy!” 

Suzette Coopers, heavily pregnant with her second child, didn’t share her husband’s misgivings. She hugged Izzy as if he was her long-lost brother and then wrapped her arms quickly around Duff’s neck. Her belly pressed against him, warm and comforting, like homemade bread and strawberry jam. When she pulled away, her apron was wet from their coats. 

She was a good-looking woman, about Izzy’s and Axl’s age, with blue eyes in a heart shaped face and thick blond hair that was always arranged in complicated braids around her head. Duff knew her well from her regular visits to _A. Rose’s Herbs and Spices_ and while she wasn’t overly bright, she, just as her unmarried twin sister, Paulette Butterfield, was always friendly. He had never found out about her denomination, and when he had asked Axl, he had said “mule-camel-crossbreed with a touch of silly goat.” 

For reasons he could not fathom, Izzy was extremely wary around the twins, up to the point that he climbed across the wall into the yard and took the back door whenever he spotted them inside the shop. Duff had asked him once, but he had pretended to not know what he was talking about. Then he had tried to make Axl tell what exactly they had done to piss everybody off. In vain. But if he considered the disdain both, Izzy and Axl expressed, the misdeed had to be significant. 

“Suzie,” Izzy mumbled, but accepted a place at the kitchen table and a cup of tea, which he slurped without answering any of the questions she directed at him. His hat was down almost to the tip of his nose and while Duff was used to his grumpiness, this had not only passed the borders to seriously bad manners, but marched on for miles into their territory. 

Duff took off his hat, peeled himself out of his oilskin and smiled at her. Then he put Slash under the table and opened the flap a little bit. 

“Thanks, Mrs Coopers,” he said when she handed him his own cup. She smiled back. 

Izzy’s impossible behaviour didn't seem to dishearten her either. The whole conversation developed into the most bizarre triangle he had ever experienced. Mrs Cooper would fire question after question at Izzy, who left it to Duff to answer them. 

“Axl’s fine,” he said for example, when Suzette asked about him. “Pretty busy.”

“There were rumours that you two were finally getting married,” she chatted on, taking Duff’s answer and directing her next question at Izzy. 

Izzy choked on a sip of tea while Slash got restless inside the bag. He could have come out, but he refused to interact much with people he didn’t know well. As he preferred to be a cat most of the time, he didn’t make many acquaintances either. Or maybe he had joined in on the general hostility towards the Butterfield twins. 

“Hot,” Izzy said apologetically. “No, that’s not … that’s not happening.” He gave the bag a kick. 

“That’s what I told Paulie. Those rumours come up every few years, I said, and look how well that goes. No need to worry.” She giggled and cast Izzy a sly glance. 

Izzy stared into his tea, looking as if he preferred being washed away by the heavenly deluge to sitting in here with Suzette Coopers. 

“Oh, there’s Jimmy,” she said, just when Duff heard hooves in the yard. 

Izzy jumped up, his knees bumping against the table in his haste to flee from the house. Duff grasped the cups to keep them from toppling over and cursed under his breath. 

“Was nice to meet you, Mrs Coopers,” he said, and was treated to another close encounter of her motherly figure. Izzy had escaped before she had a chance to corner him. Duff followed.

“I’ll send your regards to Paulie!” she called after them. 

“You do that!” Duff called back because somebody had to. 

“Right, why not encourage her further,” Izzy muttered without looking at anybody. 

Duff wanted to slap him, but he often wanted to and rarely followed through. Why was he dealing with this miserable sourpuss again? Oh yes, because he was in love. Sometimes he had to remind himself why. 

Mabel, smelling of wet horse and hitched to the cart, stood in the yard. Jimmy, Mr Coopers gangly nephew, waited next to her. 

“Have a nice trip,” he said while Duff stored their bags, including Slash, under the seat. 

“Thanks.” Izzy climbed up and Duff had to jump because the bastard was already flicking the reins. 

At least the rain had eased off to a drizzle as the wheels splashed through puddles and potholes that littered the roads of Foxhill. It was not the best kept quarter of Whittlingsfield. Mabel had seemed a bit disappointed when she had realized that she was not going back into her stable, but she was a good-natured horse. When they had left town, she walked past fields and hedges while her head nodded eagerly with each step.

Izzy hadn’t said a single word, just balanced his elbows on his knees, a cigarette between his lips and the reins in his hands, deep in thoughts. Slash was curled up and asleep in the open bag, and Duff had nothing to do but hang on to his own thoughts, namely everybody’s horrible behaviour around the Butterfield twins, and Suzette’s weird relief when Izzy had denied the question regarding a rumoured marriage between him and Axl. 

Maybe Paulette and Axl had courted at one time and Paulette was not willing to give up her hopes? Things like that happened. And it made sense. 

It was the only explanation he could come up with. Slash and Axl were not demonstrative about their relationship, and as almost everybody considered Slash to be a cat and not a human, he doubted it was common knowledge that they were a couple. That made Axl a wealthy, renown and very good-looking bachelor. If one was willing to take up with his shifting gender, he would be quite the catch. And then there were of course some women for whom Axl’s temporary femaleness would be a plus.

“Did Paulette Butterfield and Axl court at one time?” he asked. 

“What?” Izzy gave him one of his ‘don’t be stupid’ looks. He wasn’t saying it as often anymore, but Duff was convinced, he was thinking it hardly less regularly. “Axl would rather eviscerate himself than court Paulette Butterfield.”

He returned to brooding, shoulders pulled up and eyes on Mabel’s stately backside. Duff watched his profile, his long face and long nose and pointy chin, cigarette dangling between barely closed lips. Izzy didn’t notice, and for a moment, Duff suspected he might be walking through foreign spheres. Hopefully not. It didn’t seem safe to drive while taking a stroll across the astral planes. 

In silence, they passed village after village. The rain stopped completely, the sun came out and Duff was grateful to get rid of the oilskin. He tossed it together with his hat into the back of the cart, and let the wind ruffle his hair. Izzy didn’t seem to notice the change in weather, he was just as wrapped up as before, smoking one cigarette after the next. Suddenly he extinguished the last one under his boot, sat straight and turned around. 

“I promised to start your training.” He pushed his hat backwards until it almost fell off his head. 

“Yes, but don’t worry,” Duff replied. “This is important. I get it.”

“We have lots of time,” Izzy said. “We can just as well begin.”

“Here?” Duff asked confused. “On a cart?”

“Why not?” Izzy transferred the reins to one hand. He could have dropped them completely and Mabel would still have walked into the right direction. “We start with something easy. I put you under a spell and you try to shake it off.”

“On a cart?” Duff repeated. “What if I don’t manage? Will I fall off and break my neck?”

Izzy laughed. His eyes sparkled with mirth, as if he hadn’t been the most miserable grumpy ass just a few minutes ago, and Duff did remember why he was in love. Izzy may live inside his head for ninety percent of the time, but when he came out of his shell, he was full of crazy ideas like doing magical training in precarious situations, paying vampires a visit on their own territory, or tying a bell around Slash’s neck while he was asleep. 

“No. It’s just a very gentle spell. You won’t manage anything else. Ready?”

“Ready for what?” Duff asked. Izzy probably also believed in the method of tossing little children into a lake to teach them how to swim. “How about you explain a bit more first. What am I even supposed to do?” 

Izzy looked about as exasperated as Duff felt. Then he pursed his lips and searched for words. 

“All the spell will do is make you sit still. The moment you manage to move a finger, you will be released. But that’s not the point. You likely won’t manage the first time and nobody will ever tell you what kind of spell he puts you under, so knowing what it’s about dilutes the effect. What I want you to do is analyse how you feel. Your state of mind will be … altered. When you learn to recognize change and reject it, then you should learn to shake off any spell there is.”

“All right,” Duff said, not because it made much sense to him, but because there was no other way to find out than try. “Hit me.”

Izzy reached out and before Duff had time to react, pushed his palm against his forehead. Izzy’s hands could be unbelievably skilled and tender, if he chose them to be, but whenever he rammed magic into Duff’s head, his fingers bore through his skull as if he tried to gouge his brain out. Today wasn’t any different. 

The discomfort didn’t last long. Soon his body started to feel light and feathery and his worries about falling off the cart, or Paulette Butterfield courting Axl or confronting a horde of vampires, fluttered away like silk in a stiff breeze. One by one his thoughts closed off, like the dozens of tiny drawers in the shop’s apothecary cupboards. His vision dimmed to a soothing midnight blue, the clattering of Mabel’s hooves faded into the background, and he was left alone in a velvety cocoon of never known peacefulness. 

Duff didn’t know how long he had been there, feeling nothing but ease, when he noticed that one of the drawers stood the tiniest bit open, like somebody had caught the corner of a scarf when shutting it in a hurry. He looked at it, willing it to close completely, but it refused to do so. 

‘Altered state of mind,’ Izzy’s words came from somewhere. 

His state of mind was altered, but in a very agreeable way. Life at Stakesby Road was not always easy. When it wasn’t Whittlingsfield’s administration making trouble, it was Foxhill’s council, or Axl yelling through the house or Izzy being in one of his moods. This was better, and he was in no hurry to leave. 

‘Altered state of mind,’ Izzy repeated. 

He was supposed to fight it off, he remembered, although the reason eluded him. Probably because Izzy needed him for something. That’s what you got yourself an assistant for, not to have him float in velvety comfort. Time to do his job. With a sigh, Duff reached for the drawer and pulled. Noises penetrated his peaceful retreat, the clapper of hooves, the song of birds. He smelled wet horse and wet spring air and then the midnight blue changed into the brighter one of the sky.

Duff blinked and turned his head and realized that he was wet to the skin. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

He pulled his shirt away from his belly and grimaced at the godawful feeling of wet cloth sticking to his skin. His trousers were equally drenched. His hair stuck to his head, and he was shivering from the cold. 

“You managed! Well done! I’d never have excepted it.” 

Izzy was smiling one of his rare, uninhibited smiles, that transferred him into the most beautiful person Duff had seen in his life. Usually, it made him swoon at Izzy’s feet, but not now. At the moment he didn’t care for the way his eyes sparkled or how his lips could be so soft when the rest of him was all bones and angles. No, today he would demand an explanation. 

“Why am I wet?”

“Because it rained.” Izzy didn’t need to attach the ‘stupid’ to the sentence, Duff heard it loud and clear. 

“How long have I been sitting here?”

“Uhm. An hour maybe?”

“An hour?” Duff couldn’t believe it. “You let me sit in the rain for an hour?”

“It didn’t rain all the time. Ten minutes maybe.” Mabel got interested in a stretch of dandelions next to the road, and Izzy flicked the reins.

“But when it did it poured, huh?”

Izzy gave him a contrite look. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“You didn’t realize that it was raining?” 

Duff pulled at his shirt again and tried to feel any less cold. He reached for his coat, only to find out that it had been lying inside up and was completely wet. With a sigh, he dropped it back. 

“I, yes, just … I didn’t think that it would be a problem. Wait. Hold the reins for a moment.”

Duff took them and Izzy shrugged out of his own coat.

“Here,” he said and before Duff managed to protest, he wrapped it around his shoulders. 

“Thanks,” Duff said and pulled the lapels with one hand together in front of his chest. It smelled of horse and cigarettes and Izzy. “You forgot, didn’t you? That you had jinxed me? You were thinking of something else and when it started to rain, you had forgotten that I wouldn’t notice, right?”

“I …,” Izzy chewed his lip and brought his hands with the reins closer together in front of his body. “Might have been distracted for a moment. I’m sorry. But, hey, you did great.” 

He was smiling again, not quite as radiant as before, but … proud, Duff realized. Izzy was proud of him. It almost made him forget about his damp clothes. Almost. They were hard to forget, uncomfortable as they were. 

“But this was an easy spell, you said?”

“Yes, very easy. Doesn’t matter, most people wouldn’t have managed. You’ll get the hang of it. Might take a few years, though.” 

“Years?” It was a disappointing revelation, but one he should have expected. 

“All right,” Izzy went right over it. “I should probably ask you what you have learned? I mean, that’s how you do it, I suppose?”

“You’re not very experienced as a teacher, are you?” Duff asked. 

“Not very. Never had that many teachers myself, so I can’t even work from examples here.” He lit another cigarette. At this rate he would be out of them before evening and moody until he managed to buy new ones. 

“You’re doing well,” Duff said, not because it was true – he was pretty sure hitting your student with magic oblivion and having him sit in the rain for an hour was not considered good teaching methods - but because it got him another smile. A relieved one this time. Maybe Izzy had delayed his training for so long because he had no idea how to approach it. 

Then he thought about the question. “It felt peaceful he admitted. Very peaceful. But that’s different from how I felt when Axl jinxed me. That made me all proud and important.”

“Every spell feels different,” Izzy said. “How easily you defuse them depends on what is important to you. For example, I used this one because I figured, peacefulness is not necessarily what you’re craving. You like a bit of excitement or you wouldn’t be here. It should be easier for you to shrug it off than some of the others.” 

“Then how am I supposed to recognize all of them, if they are all different?”

Duff pulled Izzy’s coat closer around himself. It wasn’t exactly comfortable over his sticky shirt, but at least it was warm. Slash took that moment to crawl out of the bag. He jumped up onto the seat and Duff shifted into Izzy’s direction to make room for him. 

“There’s a pattern,” Izzy said, ignoring the cat. 

He was shivering a bit himself, Duff noticed, in nothing but a shirt. For a moment he considered handing the coat back, but decided to be petty. It was Izzy’s fault that they only had one for two people. 

“And you’ll make me think about it for another hour?”

“If it takes you so long.” 

It didn’t take him an hour to come up with the answer. 

“Too good to be true?” he asked. “When something feels better than it should?”

“Bull’s eye,” Izzy said. “Or if there are no doubts. No second thoughts. If everything is wiped away and you’re floating in the moment. Then it’s always worth to wonder if you might have gotten bewitched.”

It was, Duff thought, the way he felt whenever Izzy was making love to him.


	4. Watched

On his journey to England, Duff had stayed at a few inns, all of them vermin infested establishments, and most of the time his money hadn’t paid for more than a place in a barn. The Gnarly Oak of Horley was different. It was a long-stretched stone cottage with white washed walls, a thatched roof and about a dozen chimneys on top of it. A few of them were smoking and the smell of baking bread and frying meat greeted them when Mabel pulled into the well swept court. The name giving tree, a majestic specimen, stretched its arms almost along the complete building. At this time of year, the leaves were only halfway out in light green dots all over the bare branches. 

A stable hand was quick to help them and as they headed for the entrance, they were intercepted by the innkeeper, a portly man past fifty with a white apron wrapped around his belly. 

Duff had stuffed Slash back into the bag just in time to not be noticed, and now followed Izzy who was busy negotiating which room they would be getting. 

“I’d really like that one,” he pointed up to a window that was almost completely hidden behind the oak. 

The innkeeper reacted surprised, but finally shrugged it off as eccentrics and agreed. Probably for a raised fee, but as the council was paying, Izzy didn’t seem to mind. He had no qualms spending other people’s money. 

“The room will be ready in an hour,” the landlord said. “If you would like some food in the meanwhile?” He gestured into the direction of the house. 

Izzy shook his head. “My assistant will bring our luggage up now, if that’s all right, but I have business to take care of.”

He tipped his hat and without another look, was off for the road, where the man-high hedges quickly obscured him from view. A servant was called over, a boy of thirteen or fourteen, and he showed Duff up to the room. He was not sure what to do with Slash, but at the moment was left with no choice than to drag him along.

“Where are you coming from?” the boy asked while he walked up a creaking, narrow staircase. 

“Whittlingsfield,” Duff said. 

“Oh, nice.” He looked back over his shoulder and smiled. His face was freckled, his nose hardly more than a nub. “My brother sailed from that port.”

“Did he?” Duff replied, a little distracted. 

“Yes. What business does your master have? There’s not much to do around here, is there?” He pushed a key into the lock and opened. 

“No.”

The boy didn’t press for an answer. It was idle chitchat anyway. 

They entered the room and Duff couldn’t stifle a smile. It was a nice, little chamber, with papered walls and brushed hardwood floors. The bed, dark, sturdy oak, was decked out in white sheets. An armchair took up one corner, a tiny writing desk, complete with chair, the other one. This was like the inn his sister Carol worked in as a chamber maid. A place where people closed their eyes without checking ten times if their valuables were still safe under their pillow. 

He put the bags into a corner, only keeping Slash hanging over his shoulder. Then he realized the reason why Izzy had insisted on this room: the old oak was pushing one of the bigger branches almost up to the window. Slash would be able to come and go as he pleased at night. 

They joined Izzy on the road and once they had walked about a hundred yards down the street, Duff opened the bag. Slash shifted and shook out his curls. 

“A little more care when carrying me wouldn’t hurt,” he said while running both hands through his hair, trying to arrange it the way he liked. It was indeed a bit more tousled then usual, but they all were after a day of travel. 

“You could walk on your own,” Duff replied. “Really, you were too lazy to make one step all day.”

“Stop sounding like Axl.” Slash grinned at him. “I’m a cat, what do you expect? I’m lazy by default.”

“Stop quarrelling, we don’t have time for this,” Izzy interrupted them. “It’s about half an hour into this direction. Then we should reach the border of their property. It’s still light, so the vampires themselves will be asleep. But they do have human guards.”

“Why would humans work for vampires?” Duff asked surprised. He hurried to keep up with Izzy’s brisk step. “I mean … you might end being food.”

“You will end being food,” Izzy corrected him. “Mind control.”

“How? I mean, they first make humans work for them … and then they eat them? Must be some pretty heavy spell.”

“It is,” Izzy said and his shoulders tensed for a moment. Duff wondered if he was cold. The coat was up in the room, with their luggage. “I’ll explain another time. All you need to know is: just because somebody is human and part of the food storage doesn’t mean, he will be on our side. Be wary of everybody you meet.”

After that, Izzy fell silent. Duff would have liked a few more information, but as he knew that he wouldn’t get anything but ‘yes’ and ‘no’ anyway, he saved himself his breath. 

They marched down a typical country lane, encased between hedges that only now and then allowed a glimpse onto the surrounding countryside. Majestic oaks and chestnut trees spread their canopy over pastures dotted with cows or sheep. A hay shed now and then, a murky pond or lively stream rounded out the scenery. 

“It’s over there,” was the first sentence Izzy spoke, when they crossed a small river. He stopped and thrust his hands into his pockets, his face obtaining a bemused expression.

Duff squinted and noticed a cluster of houses, the biggest easily a mansion, huddling together behind a line of poplars. Dry stone walls cut off any direct access, except over a long driveway that meandered between birches towards the main building. 

“Won’t they notice that you’re magical?” Duff suddenly asked. 

He had been wondering what ‘checking out’ would entail, but only now did he realize that magical creatures recognized each other and that Izzy couldn’t go over without announcing his arrival loud and clearly. 

“As I said, they should still be asleep. Or at least inside.” Izzy sighed. “There is of course a slight risk that they recruited magical minions, and then, yes, they would know.”

“Which is why I am here,” Slash said. “Most of our kind are not able to distinguish between me and a real cat.”

“Because all cats are magical,” Duff remembered. 

“Right. Takes a bit more than your average skills to see the difference. Means, I can just go on a stroll and look around.”

“On your own?” Duff wasn’t sure he liked this. “Do vampires eat cats?”

“Newly made vampires who have gotten parted from their nest might,” Izzy said. “Those over there? Would be beneath their dignity.”

He still didn’t like it. 

“Maybe I could say I got lost? Ask for the way to the inn? We’ve been on the road half of the day, so I do look like a weary traveller.” 

Izzy shook his head. “No.” 

“It’s actually not a bad idea,” Slash said, in that careful tone he always employed when he tried to sell an idea to Axl or Izzy. “Duff could walk directly to the house, without hiding, as if he had no idea what he was walking into. We’d learn something from how soon they spot and stop him. And he’s good at playing stupid and innocent. Shouldn’t raise any suspicions.”

Duff considered feeling offended, but Slash was right. Playing naïve was his specialty. 

“I said, no!” Izzy glared at Slash. 

“If they are asleep, there should only humans out there, right?” Duff asked. “They should not be overly concerned with me. Or do those mind-controlled humans also hunt for vampires? Would they … don’t know … try to drag me into the larder?”

Izzy pushed his hat back and sighed again. “Not normally because hounding the prey is part of the fun. Still…”

“Then I’ll go. Really, Izzy, why have me come at all if I’m not going to do anything useful?”

“I’ve had you come because if I had left you at home you would have run after the cart like a dog.” 

Izzy’s glare changed into a pout, but Duff ignored it. 

“If I go, their attention will be on me and a cat slipping around the house won’t be noticeable.”

“I can keep to the high grass and have an eye on Duff,” Slash said. 

For a moment, Duff thought Izzy would simply forbid him to go. It was another reoccurring fight they were having, that if Izzy was unable to separate between Duff, his lover and Duff, his assistant, then they would have to let go of one of the two. It was hard on him, but he did his best, and so, after half an eternity of waiting, he offered a barely visible, defeated nod. 

“Here.” 

Izzy crammed through his pockets. Sometimes Duff thought he wore overly baggy clothes to have enough room for all the magical knickknacks he stored in them. Then he pulled a clear, little crystal out of one of them. 

“Calling crystal?” Duff asked surprised when he recognized what it was. 

“Yes. Keep it out of sight. If you run into people, make sure you stay at a few steps distance and if you feel in any way threatened, crush it and I’ll come.”

Duff took the crystal and closed his fist around it. Its corners bit sharply into his hand. 

“Don’t crush it before, I only have one pair.”

“I’ll take care.” Duff put it into his own pocket, making sure it was well padded. 

“Ready?” Slash asked and shifted. 

Slowly, they walked down the driveway, the first few yards next to each other, before Slash jumped over the drywall and vanished in the high grass. Duff spotted the tip of the tail now and then, but took pains to keep his eyes away from him. He made it up to the line of poplars when he was stopped. Two men sat in front of a low, almost square building that might serve as some sort of guardhouse. They stood up. Duff made a few more steps and used the opportunity for a quick look around, committing the array of houses, their position, size, doors, windows, to his memory. 

“Stop!” one of the men called out. He was at least a head shorter than Duff, but burly, like somebody who had serious fun engaging in pub brawls. His nose had been broken at some time, and he missed a front tooth. “Who are you and what do you want?”

Unconsciously, Duff put his hand into his pocket to feel for the crystal. 

“Hands where I can see them!” the man called. 

He didn’t brandish any type of weapon so far, but Duff quickly lifted both hands. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, suddenly wondering if his idea had really been as brilliant as he had thought. “I’m looking for the Gnarly Oak, but I can only see poplars.”

“What?” the other man had closed in, too. This one was taller, thin and unhealthy looking. His pallor made Duff wonder how often he was added to the evening’s menu. 

He gave up on the idea to get further between the houses. All he could do was keep the men occupied for a while, so that Slash had time to do the exploring. 

He sat down on the ground and started to pull off one of his shoes. “Sorry, I wanted to get rid of this pebble for at least a mile.” He felt around inside. 

“Stand up!” the first man yelled. 

Duff obeyed, but made a show out of balancing on one leg and putting the shoe back on. 

“Do you happen to have a bit of water for a tired traveller, sir? I’ve been on the road all day.”

“No. And if I were you, I’d hurry to get back on that road you came from.”

“Hospitality is a bit of an outdated concept around here, I heard,” Duff added. “Anyway. The Gnarly Oak? It’s not that, is it?” he pointed at the mansion. 

“Does this look like an inn?” the second man asked. 

Duff peered ahead, over the first man’s shoulder and spotted something black scurry past what looked like a carriage house. 

“A little bit,” he said. 

“Maybe we should ask him in,” the tall man whispered. “If he’s a stranger?”

The first one seemed to consider, and Duff’s hand twitched towards the crystal. 

“That would be overstepping,” the first one, obviously in charge, replied equally low. “Get off the premises, kid. The Gnarly Oak is down the road. But I doubt you’ll be able to pay for a room there. It’s not a place for vagrants.”

Duff looked down himself. Sure, he hadn’t put on his best clothes, considering the weather, and he was covered in tiny mud splatters from the turning wheels. First sweating under his coat, then getting drenched during that ill-fated training lesson, then drying again, hadn’t left him in perfect condition either. He looked, if he was honest, like a vagabond. 

“You reckon?” he asked. “Oh, anyway. Wouldn’t be the first time I end sleeping out in the open. Do you reckon we’ll get a dry night?”

“No,” the man said. “There’s an empty shed. If you walk past the inn, about half a mile and to the right. The farmer is a nice man. If you don’t do any damage, he won’t mind if you stay there. Would save you a couple of coins.”

“Good idea!” Duff forced a smile. “You’re too good to me, sir.”

“Off now, kid. Or you won’t find the shed before dusk.”

Duff waved, also because he had spotted Slash again and wanted to let him know that he was leaving. Then he slowly returned to the road. 

“And?” Izzy asked. 

“Do you happen to have something to write?”

Of course, Izzy had something to write, and Duff sketched a rough map of everything he had seen before he forgot again. 

“Slash should have more,” he said. “And there’ll be a hunting party out to that shed we passed about half a mile from the inn.”

Izzy gave him a sharp look. 

“Yes, I’m the prey,” Duff said. 

Slash took that moment to return. He didn’t shift, but pawed at the bag. Duff opened it to let him jump in.

“What now?” he asked. 

“Now, we’ll go back to the inn and complete the sketch,” Izzy said. “It’s not much, but if we know where they are directing their hunt, I might get a better idea about their actual strength tonight.”

“You mean how many vampires?”

Duff lifted Slash over his shoulder, and they walked back to the pub.

“Last time there were about thirty, but we took out five that one day.”

Izzy took out five, Duff wanted to correct him, but it was nice that he used ‘we’. 

“Doesn’t mean they haven’t recruited new,” he went on. “I don’t know.”

When they were up in their room, Duff realized how hungry he was. Maybe being reduced to food did that to a person. 

The first thing Izzy did, was shielding their room. He cast salt lines in front of door and window and the landlord would not be pleased, when he noticed the runes carved into the frames. They were tiny, so hopefully wouldn’t be discovered before their departure. 

Izzy was against more contact with the natives than was absolutely necessary, and nd so their dinner consisted of Kate’s lunch packages.

“No need to be more memorable than we already are,” he had said. 

Their meal was far from deprivation. She had made her travel specialty, lots of tiny pies, some savoury, some sweet. Izzy smoked more than he ate, and offered Duff his own share on top, but by that time his appetite was fading together with the light outside the window. 

“Right,” Izzy said, when a pale halfmoon made desperate attempts to cast some light through the thickening blanket of clouds. “Time for a stroll.”

Duff was about to stand up, but Izzy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, Duff, but, no.”

His first impulse was to protest, but in his heart – and especially in his stomach where all the food suddenly started to churn – he knew that Izzy was right. Slash, always one to support Duff’s penchant for risky, unreasonable behaviour, stayed silent, too. 

“You’d be more of a liability than a help,” Izzy said and Duff wished, he would put it a bit less plain. “If I have to share my attention between you and the surroundings …”

“I get it,” he replied. And he did. He had been caught by a hunting party once and that had been at home, on Izzy’s turf. It didn’t make it the least bit easier to stay behind and wait for Slash and Izzy to sneak out to count vampires, when they didn’t even know how many of them might be out there. But he got it. This was more danger than he was able to handle, and if he was a distraction, he might get everybody killed. 

He stood up and wrapped his arms around Izzy, wondering again why somebody so skinny should be the one to fight vampires. “Take care, all right?”

“You know I always do.”

“Promise,” he demanded nevertheless. 

“Promise,” Izzy said. 

Slash cleared his throat.

“I’m off. Take all the time you need, guys.” 

They parted for a moment. Izzy made a rude gesture as they watched him shift and jump into the oak tree. 

Normally, Izzy wasn’t demonstrative in his affections, and it was an unspoken rule at Stakesby Road that everybody applied a minimum of discretion when it came to their love lives. But sometimes Duff needed a little bit more than was polite while in society. 

“Keep the window and the door locked until I’m back,” Izzy said.

Duff nodded. “Kiss me.”

One corner of Izzy’s mouth twitched upwards for a second. Then he reached up, took Duff’s face into both hands and kissed him. 

“Promise again,” Duff said.

Izzy snorted and shook his head. “I’ll be back before you know it. Bolt the door after me and repair the salt line. Don’t forget it.”

And then, Duff was alone. He went through the leftovers and chewed on a tiny apple pie, but wasn’t hungry enough to finish. He briefly considered taking a nap, but despite being tired to the bone, he was far too nervous. Eventually he extinguished the light and pulled the armchair over to the window to watch the road and count the minutes. 

+++

Something had gotten caught in his hair. 

Duff made a tired gesture to wipe the fly away or the spiderwebs, or … the vampire’s hand. He yelped and jumped and almost knocked the armchair over. There was something in front of him, something darker than the darkness that surrounded the figure, something …

“Woah there,” Izzy said, easily caught his flailing arms and pushed him back into the chair. “All good.”

“Izzy?” Duff tried to calm his racing heartbeat. “I didn’t mean to …”

“Fall asleep?” Izzy flicked his fingers against the oil lamp to light it. “You could have gone to bed. That armchair doesn’t look overly comfortable.”

“What did you find out?” Duff asked. “Where’s Slash?”

Izzy opened the window and immediately closed the breach in the salt line.

“Taking a midnight stroll. You know him, he doesn’t like being cooped in at night.”

“But all went well?”

“Yes, Duff.” 

From the window Izzy went over to the door and closed the salt lines, then ran his fingers over the sigils in the frames, and when he was done, he pulled out his knife and carved some into the bedposts. Yes, the landlord would be very happy with his guests.

“Then why are you so edgy?” Duff stood up. If the room hadn’t been so small, he would have followed Izzy around, just to walk the antsy feeling out of his legs. 

Izzy sat on the bed and toyed with the knife, running his thumb over the edge until he drew blood. He licked it off. 

“I had hoped we’d have left a dent in their mob,” he said. “Looks like I was wrong.”

“How many?” Duff asked. “More than thirty?”

“I counted fifty-five.” Izzy put the knife away and sucked at his thumb. “Outside. All in all, that will make for about a hundred.”

“A hundred,” Duff breathed. “How? I mean, did they … do they …,”

“No,” Izzy rubbed the back of his neck. “They can’t have recruited that many. Fledglings are a bit of a nuisance, not fully able to hunt unobtrusively yet, but their hunger is uncontrollable. Too many fledglings around will alert the human population. This means … they must have unified with another nest. That happens very rarely because their turf wars can be epic. It explains why they are extending their hunting grounds. A few vagrants here and there, somebody too drunk to find his way home, a child gone missing, things like that happen. But to feed such a number of vampires…”

Duff tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it refused to go down. 

“What will we do?”

“Nothing.” Izzy reached for Duff’s hand, and played with his fingers the way he had with the knife, running the tips of his own along one after the other. “I can’t do anything. This is … way above my competence.”

“Is there somebody we can ask for help?” Duff asked. “The council?”

“The council won’t concern itself with events outside Foxhill,” Izzy said. “They can’t.”

“So which council is responsible here?” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Izzy said. “The councils may try to get as organized as the non-magical administrations, but they don’t have the resources. In the end, we all fight our own battles. We can’t call on the royal navy to come to our rescue. Either we, you, me, Axl, Slash, keep Foxhill clean or it gets dirty. But we can’t take care on anything outside our jurisdiction or we’ll soon be in way above our heads. In fact, this already is way above our heads.”

Duff nodded, but he didn’t understand. There were police forces out there, army battalions, sure, none of those were magical, but wouldn’t they want to help?

Unfortunately, he knew Izzy’s answer in advance. ‘Yes, they will take care of the problem. And on their way home they’ll kill each and every magical being they come across.’ 

And that would be reason enough for Izzy to do ... nothing. He would try and raise the barriers around Whittlingsfield, make sure whoever entered regretted crossing his paths, but that would be all. Anybody outside his town, men, women, children ...

Duff shooed the thought away. There had been a vampire nest for all these years and nobody had ever taken pains to protect the people living in its vicinity. It couldn’t all of a sudden fall on them to do so. But now that he knew what was there, it was very hard to free himself of the responsibility. 

He didn’t ask the question, but pulled his hand out of Izzy’s fingers and laid it against his cheek. Sometimes taking Izzy’s mind away from his worries was the only thing he could do for him. 

Izzy’s eyes widened in astonishment when Duff kissed him. 

“Do you think this is a good …”

“Yes,” Duff interrupted him before he dropped another kiss onto his lips. They were rough, tasted of too many cigarettes and too little of everything else. “We have a bed, we are alone. And we have nothing to do for hours. When does that ever happen? 

He took Izzy by his shoulders and tried to push him backwards, but his body was too taught to give in.  
“Let me,” Duff whispered. He brushed the suspenders down and fiddled buttons out of buttonholes. 

Finally, Izzy responded. He slipped a hand under Duff’s shirt, his fingertips painting circles into his skin. Duff straddled his lap, and pushed again. Still tense, Izzy slowly lay down. He pulled the shirt tails fully out of Duff’s pants and ran both hands up his back, mapping out his ribs and spine on their way up. 

Duff stripped it off, then helped Izzy lose a few layers himself. He took a second to extinguish the oil lamp. The moon was fully hidden behind clouds and all he could make out in the dark room were shadows over shadows. 

Sometimes, when he was as stressed out as tonight, darkness made things easier for Izzy. He tended to suffer from sensory overload, his head humming from the energy waves every magical being emitted, and Duff had found out early on that switching off a sense or two, sometimes helped to ground him.

It wasn’t their most intense love making by far, but it had the desired effect. When they were done, Izzy’s fingers had stopped their incessant scuttling and the tension had left his body. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked. 

Duff could have given him a hundred reasons, but he was too tired. He settled in Izzy’s arms, and fell asleep to the scent of sex and stale smoke. 

When he woke in the morning, Izzy had buried his head at his shoulder and Slash lay curled up at the bottom of their bed.


	5. Bewildered

They reached Foxhill in the same way they had left it: drenched to their skin. 

“I swear,” Slash cursed when he had climbed out of the bag and shifted into his human form. “This spring is the worst we’ve ever had.”

Izzy tossed his hat onto the counter. “That’s what you say every year.”

Duff dragged the bags into the corridor, leaving a track of muddy footprints in his wake that would cause Axl to burst a vessel. He didn’t care. Instead, he followed Izzy’s example and shed wet, dirty clothes with each step, not caring where they dropped. Then he climbed up into his attic in search for something dry. 

Dinner, he decided, when he was done. Yesterday’s leftovers had made for a half decent breakfast, but lunch had been a blank. Izzy might make do with cigarettes, and Slash had slept away in the bag, but Duff had spent the journey listening to his stomach growl. 

He met Kate on his way down.

“Going home already?” he asked. 

She nodded. “Izzy all but tossed me out.”

Kate was part of the family, but Izzy preferred to leave her in the dark about most of their activities. 

“She’s too young,” he tended to say. “And her life is shitty enough without piling any more crap on top of it.”

The others had made it to the kitchen before him, and Izzy was relating the disappointing results of their endeavour. 

“Guess that’s it then,” Axl said. “Nothing you can really do.”

He sat at the table, his blue cotton dress wrinkled, his appearance a little less immaculate than usual, and a cup of tea in front of him. Somebody had put on the kettle for more, and soup was simmering on the stove. Duff fetched plates and spoons. 

“Something wrong?” Izzy asked. He was leaning against the sink, hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side, and watched Axl with questioningly raised eyebrows. 

Duff, torn out of his feeding frenzy, looked from one wizard to the other, and realized that Axl’s glumness didn’t fit the situation. He tended to explode when things didn’t go his way, not stare into a cup of tea. 

Silently Axl stretched out his arm. His hand was open, palm down, fingers slightly raised, and when he lifted it further, one of the spoons moved an inch into the air. It hovered for a moment, wobbled a little, and clattered onto a plate. 

Duff’s mouth stood open for a second. Then he smiled and started to applaud. Anything good was a welcome distraction from the current sense of doom. He didn’t get far. After the third clap Axl’s glare made him stop and slink into the background. 

“When did this happen?” Slash asked. He sat down on the bench next to Axl.

“Yesterday evening. I don’t have it under control, yet.” 

That was the reason for his dejection? That he hadn’t fully mastered a new skill? An awesome new skill, Duff wanted to add.

“Shit.” Izzy took the kettle of the stove and filled the tea pot. “Levitation?”

“Maybe it doesn’t grow stronger than that?” Slash said. 

Axl gave him a dubious look. “You know me. This is was happened within a day. In a month I will …” his voice petered out. 

Izzy sat down opposite from Axl. He pushed the plate Duff had put there out of the way and folded his hands in front of him. 

“This gets you dangerously close to the power limit,” he said gently, as if explaining something unpleasant to a child. “Probably a bit past.”

Axl laughed harshly. “Don’t you think I know that? It couldn’t be something a bit more obscure, something they wouldn’t check for, no, it had to be levitation of all things.” He tossed his hair back. “This is so unfair. You’re way past the limit, Izzy. You’re a goddammit wanderer between worlds, but only because it’s so obscure … Tremblay wouldn’t even know how to test for something like that. And I get struck with … with … levitation!” He slammed a fist onto the table. 

Duff’s stomach knotted. Shocked, he understood why everybody was so despondent. The administration of Whittlingsfield had put a power limit on its inhabitants. Every five years they were examined accordingly and Slash had once said that Axl was toeing the line. 

Izzy ran a hand over his face and stopped by pressing his chin into it. 

“Try not to practice,” he said. “Yes, I know,” he added when Axl lifted his head as if to protest, “it’s hard to ignore the itch, but try. If you don’t use it, it might not fully manifest. At least not yet. It’s very new, and you know that powers tend to float at the beginning. Your next evaluation is when?”

“Next January,” Axl said.

“Good. We have to get you past that. Then we have another five years to come up with a solution. We need to make the bloody muffler work.”

“What do you think I’m wasting all my time on?” he looked ready to tear his hair out. Or burst into tears. 

Slash leant into his direction until their arms touched. Duff brought the teapot over. His hunger was forgotten, but if the only thing he could do was provide people with hot mugs to hold on to, then he would do it. 

“You’ll find a solution,” Slash said. Then he wrapped both arms around Axl, who all but collapsed into his embrace. “You always do.”

+++

Duff was used to a certain degree of misery. Coming from a large, poor family in the West of Ireland, there had always been worry. How to pay the rent, how to pay for food, how to pay for clothes or school or the doctor. As the youngest, he had been spared the biggest brunt of those sorrows, and once his sibling had started to spread all over the world and send money home, the situation had become less dire. 

He did not only have a brother in America, but also one in Australia and two sailing for the East India company. One of his sisters had made it to Suffolk where she worked as a dairy maid in a large household. A second one was married in Dublin and according to the last letter he had received from his parents, his youngest sister, only a year older than he was himself and currently employed as chamber made in a hotel, had been offered a position as caretaker for the elderly mother of a wealthy merchant in Devon. 

But back in the day it had not been uncommon to get up in the morning and find his parents oppressed and taciturn at the kitchen table. 

When he took up his work in the shop the next morning, the atmosphere was similar. Axl, still female, but at least dressed to his normal standards in dark crimson silk, was unusually quiet and as he failed to give him a task, he looked for one himself. 

For once, he weighed real spices instead of magical objects into tiny sachets. Sometimes herbs and potion ingredients were one and the same, but as often people bought them to spice up their meals. 

Axl had cleared him to sell items like curry, pepper or gingerroot, and today he was especially happy to leave the customer service to him. Most of the morning he had spent staring into his ledger without making more than a handful of entries, and Duff wished there was something he could do to cheer him up. 

When Sally Harris entered and asked for chilies, Axl just waved into his direction. 

“Hey Duff,” Sally said. 

She was a petite girl, with mouse brown hair in a messy bun, and bright hazel eyes. Duff liked her, she was the closest he had to a friend in Foxhill. She was clever and witty and always had a wave, a smile and time for a few words for him. The glamour amulet that hid her talons and turned the halo of feathers into hair, hung around her neck, but she had once taken it off and showed him her true form. It had been impressive. 

When he had first met her, almost a year ago, Duff had estimated her to be around fourteen, but it turned out, she had already been seventeen.

“Benefits of being a harpy,” she had told him when he had been surprised. “We age slowly.”

“Hi Sally.” Duff stood up and headed for the spice shelf. “How many?”

“Five,” she said, and he counted chilies into a little paper bag while she stood next to him. 

“New dress?” he asked. It looked a bit too nice for going shopping, blue cotton with white embroideries all over the bodice. 

She nodded. “You like it?”

“Yes.”

Sally beamed. “I did extra shifts at the bakery to pay for it. Mum thinks it’s horribly extravagant.”

Duff cast a furtive glance into Axl’s direction. It hadn’t been secretive enough. Sally giggled, only to turn it into a cough to hide it behind her hand. 

Both their heads turned when the bell rang and Izzy entered. He had been to the council in the morning to report his observations and been out so early, Duff hadn’t noticed when he had left the bed. The bags under his eyes and slump to his shoulders told all there was to tell. They were in for a day of moping reticence, both from Izzy and Axl. 

“Bessy sends her regards,” Sally said and smiled at Izzy. 

“She does?” Izzy gave her a perplexed look, as if trying to sort her face into the correct slot. The Harris girls looked all similar to each other, as if their parents had been so delighted with the first version that they had created a couple more right away. 

“Yes.” She lifted her chin a little and had problems keeping her smirk in check as she waited for his reaction. 

Politeness was not Izzy’s forte, and so he just nodded and went over to Axl. Duff was sure he got the quip, but would never do her the favour of letting her know. 

Sally was not deterred. She knew Izzy since she had been a little girl and it was no secret that her older sister Bessy had a sweet spot for him. But Duff knew just as well that Bessy would never have tasked her little sister with sending regards. She was a bit shy and as far as he was informed, courting the oldest boy of some shapeshifter family he was not overly well acquainted with. 

“Will you go to equinox, Duff?” Sally asked when it became clear that Izzy wouldn’t rise to her bait.

Duff carried her chilies over to the cashier

“Ehm … no idea.” 

The magical community observed a slightly different festive calendar from the rest of the population, and he never knew which celebration included what type of booze-up. Izzy was not overly interested in mingling and while Duff was gregarious by nature, he didn’t feel comfortable enough to go on his own. Yes, people started to open up to him a little bit, but he was still the non-magical outsider, and not a full part of the community. 

“If you like we could go together.” Sally smiled at him, her eyes sparkling at her own audacity. 

“Good idea,” Izzy said. 

Duff gave him a perplexed look. He would have liked to ask him a few choice questions, but as nobody outside the shop knew about the sinful nature of their relationship, it was impossible to put him on the spot right away. He would do so later, though, once Sally had paid her chilies and left. 

“Equinox is nice,” Izzy continued, oblivious to the fact that he was one word away from having his neck twisted. “Lots of alcohol and a big bonfire.”

That could be said about pretty much every festivity, Duff wanted to object. Axl had looked up from his ledger and listened with a little frown between his brows. His eyes moved quickly from Duff to Izzy once, before he pretended to not care. Duff was not fooled. Axl always cared for drama. 

“Awesome,” Sally said. “Will you pick me up or should I come over?”

“I …” Duff stuttered and accepted the coins she handed him. Had he said anything that had sounded like agreement? It took him far longer than usual to calculate the change. “I’ll pick you up I suppose?”

“Great. Have a nice day! Mr Stradlin, Mr Rose.” 

Sally Harris left the shop with a smile on her face, a spring in her step and the overall air of somebody who had successfully finished an important mission. 

Duff turned to Izzy as soon as the door had closed. “What was that?”

“As I said, equinox is nice,” Izzy repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to send one’s lover out with some other girl. 

“That might be the case,” Duff said. “But I’m not going with somebody who isn’t you!”

“How noble,” Axl muttered. “If you stick to that, you’ll never go much anywhere. Except ghoul caves and vampire nests, of course. In case you’re into that stuff. Then he’s the right man for you.”

Duff gave him an irritated look. They had been to winter solstice. Together. For all of half an hour because Izzy had found something that urgently needed his attention, but things like that happened in his line of work. 

“It’s no big deal,” Izzy said. “You’re not going to court her, in case you’re worried. We’re not as rigid as the non-magical world. You like Sally, don’t you? She will introduce you to a few of her friends and, really, that might be a good idea.”

“Yes, she’s nice!” Duff said. “But that doesn’t mean … You can’t make arrangements like that for me!”

Izzy raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t. I just pointed out that you’d have fun going, that’s all. You’re a bit young to be hanging around the house all the time. Go or don’t go, really, it’s nothing to me. Axl, you have a moment?”

Duff stood rooted in spot, his mouth hanging open and he was sure, his eyes bulging out of his head. Sometimes the only word to describe Izzy was obnoxious. 

Axl cocked his head, but then he nodded, closed the ledger and Duff was left alone. His first impulse was to run after them and express his displeasure in a lot more detail, but somebody had to take care of the shop. 

What was this? Typical Izzy world-weariness or something else? A not-so-subtle hint that he should look for a new girlfriend? Suddenly Duff felt as if he had not sold, but swallowed the chilies. All five of them. Was Izzy unhappy with him? Because he refused to use magic in bed, for example? Because he was too young, too inexperienced?

Axl had once said that Izzy considered his presences as ‘soothing’, but what if he had been soothed enough and started to get bored? And in a weird attempt at being considerate, instead of dumping him, he tried to foist him off on somebody else.

His only comfort regarding this question was that “considerate” and “Izzy” were not words to be used in the same sentence. Normally. He could be horribly considerate if he set his mind to it, he just seldomly bothered. This might very well be such a rare occurrence. Duff swallowed another five chilies. 

For a moment he considered asking Axl, but tossed the idea immedaitely. Axl knew Izzy better than anybody in the world, but he would say something like ‘that’s Izzy for you, don’t expect him to change because he won’t.’

Duff didn’t want Izzy to change. At least not much. A little bit wouldn’t hurt, if he was honest. But he knew that changing people only happened in stories, never in real life. He wanted to understand him when he did outrageous things like making him go out with Sally Harris. 

Later, he decided. Confronting him on the spot never led anywhere. Izzy would need to time to stew in his own juices for a while. When confronted too early, he tended to draw back into his shell, and getting him out of that was as pleasant as chasing a bear out of its cave. 

Weighing spices was out of the question for the moment because in his anger he was not able to properly handle the tiny amounts. He would dust the shop in curry and aggravate Axl further. Hector gave him a contemplative look and Duff bent down to the basket to scratch him behind the ears.

“What was that, huh?” he asked, but the dog didn’t answer. 

Then he packed the spices away and sorted through the crystals instead. They never failed to lighten his mood, and after a while, he calmed down. He was overreacting. Sometimes Izzy got it in is his head that he was at least thirty years older than Duff and that hanging around his grandfatherly old lover deprived him of the joys of being as young and carefree as Izzy had been in his long-lost youth. While Duff was able to imagine Izzy at the age of sixteen or seventeen, picturing him carefree was an impossible task. 

Unable to come to a conclusion about Izzy’s intentions, he felt relieved when the bell ran again and a customer was ready to take his mind off his troubles. Hopefully he wouldn’t need anything that required weighing tiny amounts into tiny sachets. 

“How can I …” he started, but stopped when he noticed that this was a lot worse than a customer demanding a quarter ounce of ground cinnamon. “Constable Carter. Good morning.”

Constable Carter looked as happy about returning to Foxhill as Duff was to see him. Dealing with the police would put another damper on Izzy’s spectacular mood. 

Axl must have heard the bell, too, because the constable hadn’t yet managed to return his greeting, when he came in. 

“Miss Rose,” Constable Carter’s face lit up, as if his visit had suddenly lost all its distastefulness. “I’m glad to see you fully recovered.”

He took off his hat and indicated a bow. Axl cast Duff a sympathetic look. 

“The wizard, I assume?” he asked the sigh loud and clear in his voice. 

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

Axl forced a smile which didn’t even attempt to reach his eyes. Constable Carter didn’t mind. He just smiled back. 

“Mr Stradlin is always happy to help out the law. Duff?”

Duff took off his gloves and the routine of library and tea followed. 

Then he went upstairs to chase the bear out of its cave. 

“What?” Izzy yelled, when he knocked. “I swear, if this is more about the blasted equinox, I said I don’t care. Stay home if you don’t want to go. It won’t break Sally’s heart.”

Duff opened the door and entered. A few books were strewn haphazardly over the table, but Izzy didn’t look as if he had been reading. 

“Calm down,” he snapped. “It’s Constable Carter.”

Izzy rubbed both hands over his face. “Awesome,” he muttered. “And sorry. For yelling.”

Duff would have loved to get a little deeper into that topic, but this wasn’t the moment. They both knew what the visitor wanted. A third person had been resurrected. 

“Give me a moment.” 

Izzy splashed some water into his face and dried it off with yesterday’s shirt. He stared out of the window for almost a minute, probably getting his aura in order or whatever a wizard did when he was close to a nervous breakdown. He finished with a deep breath and marched ahead of Duff to the library, making enough noise on the staircase to raise another few people from death. 

“Constable,” Izzy nodded and sat in his armchair while Duff took the couch. “I would prefer to skip the pleasantries today.”

Constable Carter stared right back. “Suits me.” 

This time nobody bothered to pick up one of the tea cups. Duff would have loved to have something to hold on to, but clattering around with ceramic didn’t seem the best idea when dealing with two combatants only one loud noise away from a shootout. 

Constable Carter had come prepared. He had his body language under control and his persuasive points in a neat row, mainly in the form of financial reward. 

“The inspector has approved the requested payment.” He pulled a stack of papers out of a briefcase. “This is our standard advisor agreement. If you would sign, we can proceed.” 

Izzy handed the papers to Duff who started to read while listening with one ear to the conversation. 

“Who is the third person?”

“Mr Gilling,” Constable Carter said. “Fifty-three, suffered from heart problems for a long time. The doctor has diagnosed heart failure. Nothing surprising. Except that a day later he was up and running and showed no signs of lingering weakness.”

“How enviable. The same doctor? Maybe we should start with paying him a visit, but I’ll have to talk to the … I suppose victims is not the correct word here. Lucky bastards.”

Constable Carter allowed himself a chuckle. He relaxed, probably relieved that Izzy kept to what he had agreed to, instead of giving him more trouble. 

“Looks all right to me,” Duff said and handed the contract back. “I mean, from what I can say. I have no idea about this stuff.” 

He wasn’t a legal advisor after all, but as far as he could say, Izzy wouldn’t be obligated to do anything he didn’t normally do when taking on a case. There were a few long and complicated words he did not understand, but hopefully they didn’t imply that he was selling his soul or a pound of flesh or something equally unappetizing. 

“One thing I would like to set straight,” Constable Carter said, voice suddenly steely. 

“I’m all ear.” Izzy skimmed through the papers himself, pursing his lips once or twice as he seemed to reread a paragraph before he moved on. 

“We both know that last time there was more than you would let on. If you take money for your services, I expect to get services.”

Izzy took his time to finish reading before he let the contract sink into his lap and cocked his head to the side. 

“Are you accusing me of lying?” he asked.

Duff knew this voice, the smooth, velvety lilt to it. It meant that either trouble was looming or he was about to experience the best orgasm of his life. He had the feeling that this time they were heading for former and not so much the latter. 

“Would I have reason?” the constable asked.

“Would you give me reason?” 

Izzy’s shoulders sank a few millimetres and his arms relaxed around his elbows. A deliberate move to hide his tension. When one’s lover was of the taciturn type, one got very good at deciphering his body language, Duff had learned. 

“Why would I?” The prominent vessel at Constable Carter’s temple bulged. 

“You tell me.” 

Duff dug his fingernails into his thighs. These two were not talking about the same problem. Izzy was worried that anything he discovered might fall back on Foxhill in general. The constable thought Izzy was hiding evidence because he was one misdeed short of a criminal. 

“Constable Carter?” he said and both men looked at him as if he was a child interrupting the grownups in an important discussion. “You are aware that the residents of Foxhill won’t have anything to do with unusual activities concerning a surgery at Newroad in Heatherfield, aren’t you?” 

“I’m not excluding anything at this point, but it’s not likely, no. At least our inquiries are not going into this direction. Why?” The policeman looked genuinely puzzled. 

“Just wondering.” Duff smiled guilelessly. “We are often accused here of things we didn’t do.”

“No, I …” he looked from Duff to Izzy, who hadn’t moved at all. “I would not ask for help from Foxhill if I thought Foxhill might be involved.”

Izzy’s lids fluttered once, but that was the only change in his facial expression. 

“I assure you that you will get an honest assessment of the situation,” he said, sounding more formally than usual. “But I cannot promise that it will be helpful to your inquiries.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” The tension was still there, but overlaid by expectation. 

Izzy kept eye contact for a few more second, before he offered a minuscule nod. Then he stood up, walked towards the desk and signed the contract. 

Duff felt air leave his lungs in a whoosh. Taming a lion had to be easier than handling Izzy in a bout of paranoia. 

“Can we go?” Constable Carter didn’t stand up yet. Maybe he expected another round of arguments. “Time is of the essence and I would rather not waste more than I already have.”

Izzy handed him one copy of the papers. “By all means,” he said. “I’m burning to get started on this intriguing case.”


	6. Beloved

Getting a cab around Foxhill was impossible, and so Constable Carter had asked the cabbie to wait for him. He seemed relieved when the policeman stepped onto the street, and Duff wondered how often over the course of his wait he had considered turning tail. 

They piled into the passenger cabin and had barely closed the door when the horse pulled forward, the poor driver eager to be gone. 

“Anything I need to know about this doctor?” Izzy asked after a few minutes. 

“As I said, Dr Rowland came highly recommended…”

“What was his name?” Izzy asked. “I don’t think you mentioned before.” 

“Dr Giles Edward Rowland,” Constable Carter repeated. “Came down here from Scotland. Pitlochry, I think.” He checked his notebook. “Yes, Pitlochry.” 

Izzy nodded and his eyes returned to the scenery outside the window. His index finger tapped against his knee a few times before his hand lay still again. Duff tried to recall if he had ever heard the name, but drew a blank. 

“He is a good friend of Mr Brooks. Mr Jonathan Brooks?” the constable added when Izzy shrugged. “Important family. The eldest daughter married into nobility.”

Izzy shrugged again. Axl would probably know all these people, and they might have to pump him for information later. 

“They attended the same university. Edinburgh. Mr Brooks took over his father’s silk mercantile, married a Miss …” he pulled a little notebook out of his pocket, “… Wiggins, not native of Yorkshire, but Lancaster. Four children, the oldest daughter married well above her station, the oldest son at university. The second one a Lieutenant with the Royal Navy. One daughter at home. A Miss Anabelle, ten years old. A fair bit younger than her siblings.”

Izzy took it all in without contributing anything in return. 

“The old doctor, Dr Cole, he retired and looked for somebody to take over the practice. At the moment, the surgery is still situated in his residence and it hasn’t been yet decided whether Dr Rowland will take over the house or relocate the practice once he has found lodgings on his own. We looked bit into his finances and to be honest, he won’t be able to do either. But the official explanation why he is living with Brooks is, of course, that the decision hasn’t been made yet.”

Izzy didn’t seem overly interested. His role was checking the different players for magical traces, anything else would have to be solved by the police. The rest of the journey was therefore passed in silence. 

Duff looked out of the window and realized that the scenery had changed. The houses were bigger, nicer, surrounded by gardens and iron wrought fences. People wore either elegant clothes or servant uniforms and the waste that littered the streets he usually frequented, was missing. 

“There we are,” Constable Carter said shortly before the horse came to a halt. “Mr Jonathan Brooks’ humble abode.”

Duff opened the door and jumped out first. The building loomed over three stories of grey stone. There was no garden visible from the front, just two staircases, one up to the main door, the other one down to the servant’s entrance. He stepped aside and waited for the policeman to take the lead. Bringing up the rear had the benefit that he didn’t have to decide which staircase was the right one for their purpose. Things like that could be complicated, and he had a tendency to pick wrong. 

Izzy stopped briefly and as his eyes darted upwards, it was clear which staircase he would take. Luckily, Constable Carter was heading for the main door, too and knocked. A footman opened and listened to their request to speak to Doctor Rowland. 

They were invited into a wide hall. The air smelled perfumed, and Duff spotted hyacinths in a vase on a table. He assumed that the cost for the decoration would easily furnish Axl’s complete house. Another footman took their coats and hats and led them into some kind of salon. It was not the first time that Duff entered a room as elegant as this, but they never failed to intimidate him. Everything was so neat, from the sofas and pillows over the curtains in front of smudge-free windows to tasteful spring flower arrangements, and delicate figurines on equally delicate little tables. There was so much stuff that fulfilled no other purpose than being pretty. 

They were left alone for a few minutes, before the footman announced that Dr Rowland was now ready to receive them. 

Duff retreated to the back of the room and watched the door, while Izzy didn’t seem to care. He peered out of the window, a bit too interested in the flower beds behind the house. 

Dr Giles Edward Rowland was not what Duff had expected. The only doctor he knew was Dr Murphy, who was old and bald and accepted eggs and apple pie as payment. Instinctively he had been prepared to meet somebody past fifty and overweight.

Dr Rowland, Duff thought, would not be amused if his patients tried to pay him with groceries. Dr Rowland was a gentleman, from the neatly groomed brown hair over the well-fitting brown suit, the perfectly tied cravat to the polished brown shoes. He couldn’t be older than forty, maybe a year younger, an inch or two shy of six feet, athletic, with an open face, a strong nose and a touch of jug ears. The latter didn’t distract from his overall good looks at all, on the contrary, the slight flaw made him approachable, and Duff’s first instinct was to trust him. It had to be helpful with his patients. 

“Constable Carter!” Rowland greeted the policeman with a firm handshake. He seemed neither intimidated, nor annoyed by the intrusion. He even smiled a little. 

The constable returned the greeting. 

“I mentioned I would bring an adviser. May I introduce you to Mr Stradlin.”

He looked back to where Izzy was still staring out of the window. Now he turned around and joined them. 

“Dr Rowland,” he said and minimally inclined his head in an approximation of a polite bow. 

Dr Rowland did not reply. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, the offered hand frozen mid-air, he stared. 

“Jeffrey?” he brought out. 

“I beg you pardon?” Izzy tilted his head, but otherwise remained motionless. 

Jeffrey, Duff thought. Who the hell was Jeffery?

Dr Rowland was quick on the uptake. He recovered from his shock amazingly fast. “Forgive me, sir.” He shook his head, a brief, abrupt motion as if to shake fog out of his mind, and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “You look very similar to an … old acquaintance of mine. A misunderstanding.” Hand outstretched, he walked over to Izzy. “Mr …”

“Stradlin,” Izzy said, stressing both syllables. “Izzy Stradlin.” 

He took the offered hand, turning it in a way that his was slightly on top, and without breaking eye-contact held on for a touch longer than was custom. Then he let go as if dropping a hot potato.

“This is Mr McKagan, my assistant.” 

Duff looked surprised. Most of the time Izzy forgot to introduce him, and if he did, it was something like ‘this is Duff, he takes care of this shit.’

“Pleased to make you acquaintance, sir.” Dr Rowland turned to him and shook his hand, but while he did offer eye contact, his head was tilted into Izzy’s direction. 

“Likewise,” Duff said. 

He didn’t think anybody had ever called him ‘sir’. The brief burst his ego received from the formality died quickly when he realized that he was not familiar with the etiquette expected in this type of society. Did he have to say anything else? Inquire after the health of the family? Remark on the short reprieve in the shoddy weather? Suddenly he would have preferred to remain ‘Duff who took care of shit’ instead of Mr McKagan. 

“So, Mr Stradlin,” Dr Rowland stopped briefly as if he needed to familiarize himself with the name on his tongue, “Constable Carter said you were the … ehm … what would be the correct term?”

“I’m the wizard of Foxhill,” Izzy said. “Constable Carter is under the very unlikely impression that something might not be as it seems.”

“It is unusual … I’m sorry, where are my manners. Why don’t we sit down? Carl?” the last was called out to the footman. “Tea, please.”

They all divided themselves over the various pieces of furniture. Duff perched in the corner of a red and gold striped sofa that stood on bowed legs in front of the window., He hoped he hadn’t dirtied his clothes at the carriage and was now leaving stains on the brocade. Izzy, right next to him wasn’t fully at ease either, although it was unlikely that he should worry about sullying his surroundings. He did that all the time, much to Axl’s chagrin, and it never left a blemish on his conscience. But he sat a little closer than was necessary, ramrod straight and hands balled into loose fists. 

“How about we start by going through the events,” Constable Carter tried to take hold of the conversation or maybe to keep the tension from reaching critical temperature. There was no aggression in the air, yet Izzy and Dr Rowland were as uncomfortable in each other’s company as two people who had never met could manage. 

Just when Dr Rowland had opened his mouth, a footman appeared with the tea tray. Everybody fell silent until cups were filled and handed out, the clattering of ceramic on ceramic the only sound in the otherwise oppressive silence. 

Nobody took more than a token sip though before all cups returned in another bout of clattering ceramic to the table. Duff managed to make his tea spill over the saucer onto the polished oak, but pretended to not notice. Trying to wipe it away would be too embarrassing. He was still unable to keep watching it out of the corner of his eye. 

Constable Carter cleared his throat. “The course of events, please.”

“Yes, of course.” Dr Rowland, whose eyes had been shifting between Izzy and his own tea cup on the table, narrated the three cases, the girl with pneumonia, the boy with the broken back and the man with the heart attack. “I start doubting myself,” he said. He made moves to run a hand through this hair, but broke off before he had a chance to destroy his hairdo. “I do not see where I went wrong. And the recovery. I …have no explanations.”

He put his hands together and let them sink into his lap. 

“Is there a chance that I can meet the … miracle patients?” Izzy asked. 

Dr Rowland cast an unsure glance into his direction before he returned to watching his own hands. 

“I don’t know how the families will take it,” he said. “It is not usual to consult a … a wizard.” He stared at Izzy, shaking his head the tiniest bit, and Duff felt for him. It was all becoming easier with time, but when he had been dropped into the parallel world that was Foxhill, he had reacted with equal disbelief. 

Izzy shrugged. “They don’t need to know what I am.”

It was a sensible suggestion, but one that didn’t meet much approval. 

“I cannot afford to lose my patients’ trust,” Dr Rowland said. “And to be honest, after this … debacle, it’s what I’m rapidly losing. If events keep unfolding in this way, I might have to reconsider my engagement here.”

“I would prefer to not turn it into an official police visit,” Constable Carter said, “but if I have to…”

“No.” Dr Rowland shook his head, even less happy with that alternative. “I don’t think … that shouldn’t be necessary. I will ask Brooks for support. To invite them. Anabelle and Elaine are friends, so …”

“Who?” Izzy asked. 

“Mr Brooks … my host.” He pointed at the ceiling. “I haven’t found a permanent place yet, I was too busy getting the surgery set up, so Mr Brooks offered me to stay until my living arrangements were sorted out. He was very eager to make me relocate to Whittlingsfield. I wonder if he is regretting his zeal.” He laughed nervously. “However, his daughter, Anabelle and Elaine Royes, the little girl who died … or not died, from pneumonia are friends. As he vouched for me, it should be in his own interest to find a fast and discrete solution.” He emphasized the last words. “Do you need to talk to everybody?”

“Actually, I only need to see them.” Izzy rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. “For now.”

He cast Duff a look and Duff knew what he was thinking. No way would a family like that agree to a full aura reading. Izzy would have to make do with what he could catch at a glimpse, but that might not be conclusive. 

“But we can start with one, if that makes it easier. If you were able to set something up, that would be helpful.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Dr Rowland straightened, his voice gaining resolution. He had a plan he could follow up on, and that seemed to be enough to make him feel better. 

Under normal conditions, Duff thought, he would have liked him. But this wasn’t a normal situation, not by a long stretch. And not only because the good doctor had an unlucky hand with correct diagnoses. 

Constable Carter stood up. “You’ll let us hear?”

“As fast as possible. It is in my own interest that this is … clarified.” 

Everybody stood, except Izzy. “There is something else I would like to discuss,” he said. “If you have a few minutes, doctor.”

The constable gave him a surprised look, but Izzy only pulled one side of his mouth up in a wry smile.

“It’s a health-related question,” he said. “We don’t have many chances to see a doctor in Foxhill, and as I’m already here …”

Constable Carter did not seem happy, but as Dr Rowland didn’t raise objections, he took his leave. Not without casting a last warning glance into their direction.

Duff gave Izzy a worried look. “Are you really ill?” he whispered while the doctor saw the policeman out. 

“Of course not,” Izzy replied. “I need to talk to him alone.”

“Do you want me to wait outside.”

Izzy hesitated and Duff was sure he would say ‘yes’, but to his surprise –and relief– he shook his head. “It’s all right. You can stay.”

The concession had cost him, and Duff’s curiosity grew in parallel to his concern. He wanted to ask if this was about ‘Jeffrey’, when Dr Rowland returned and closed the door behind them. His eyes flickered briefly from Izzy to Duff and back when Duff realized that his fingers brushed against Izzy’s arm. He snatched his hand back. 

“Izzy Stradlin is my real name,” Izzy said without preamble. “And, yes, Giles, I’m a wizard. I grew up in Foxhill. Actually, I have spent most of my life here. I would like to keep it that way.”

Dr Rowland sat down. All tension seeped out of his body, making him shrink in his armchair until he appeared a foot smaller than before. 

“I’m sorry. I did not handle this well. You caught me by surprise.”

Izzy moved his head in acknowledgment, but stayed quiet. 

“I did not expect to see you ever again after you … vanished so suddenly. And now here, in this situation …” He shook his head, but collected himself, also because he was not alone with Izzy. Duff was well aware that the conversation might have taken a different turn if he had left the room. “You look ... good. Healthier.”

“No surprise there.”

“Sorry. Occupational hazard. I can’t … not check out people’s physical condition.”

“I know how that feels.” Izzy didn’t go into details. “Would you keep it to yourself?”

“Yes, of course.” Dr Rowland looked a little helpless, as if he didn’t understand what was happening. “May I ask … why did you give me a false name?”

Izzy shrugged. “Seemed safer. I didn’t know you. And later I saw no reason to change it.”

“You didn’t see reason to tell me that you were a wizard either, I suppose?”

“It’s nothing you would hawk around,” Izzy said, his mouth set in a firm line.

“No.” Dr Rowland exhaled, struggling to regain his composure and managing so well, it was admirable. Duff was sure, he himself would be hyperventilating. “I … understand that.” 

He didn’t look as if he understood anything at all, and Duff almost felt for him. Almost. Because one thing was clear in all this confusion: Dr Giles Edward Rowland was his competitor, and it left him with a dread in his stomach that Bessie Harris wouldn’t have managed if he had found her naked in Izzy’s bed. 

“Thank you.” Izzy stood up and the doctor followed suit. 

“Jeffrey,” he started and made a step forward until he was less than a foot away. For a second, Duff was sure, he would try to hug his long-lost ... acquaintance. Izzy escaped with a deliberate movement to the side and Dr Rowland let his raised hands sink. 

“I guess we’ll see each other around,” Izzy said. “Duff?”

Duff stood up and moved closer to Izzy than he normally would. 

Dr Rowland saw them out. 

It had started to drizzle again and Izzy put up the collar of his coat and pulled his hat into his face. Shoulders hunched up, he marched down the street, leaving it to Duff to run after him. As Constable Carter had left, they would have to walk back to Foxhill, which would take them the better part of an hour. Enough time to bring up all his questions, yet they covered more than half of the way in silence. 

“Where do you know him from?” Duff asked.

“Long story,” Izzy said. 

Duff waited, but nothing came forward. 

When they reached Stakesby Road, Izzy marched through the shop room without a word into Axl’s direction. Duff heard the slam of a door and then there was silence. If he now left Izzy to his own devices, it would stay silent for the rest of the day. And maybe the next. The other alternative was to follow him into his room and put him on the spot, but that was an equally unappetizing prospect. 

“Just the usual or did somebody spit extra hard into his porridge?” Axl asked. 

“Do you know a Dr Rowland?” Duff asked. “Giles Rowland?”

“That the new doctor Izzy mentioned? No.”

“A Mr Brooks?”

Axl tapped his lips. “Jonathan Brooks?” 

Duff nodded. 

“Merchant family. I remember when they managed to marry one of their daughters to some kind of peer. Finally got them into the circles they were aiming for. Why?”

“This Dr Rowland is staying at their house. Apparently, it’s Mr Brooks who asked him to come here. From Scotland.”

Axl shrugged, and Duff wasn’t sure if it was reassuring or the complete opposite that he had no idea either about how these families and Izzy connected. Vampires, resurrected people, and a ghost from the past. He had no idea which of the three he wanted to stuff back into their graves first. 

He considered retreating to his attic to get his head free, but knew he had to bite the bullet. He shed his outer clothes, buying time by making a round through the kitchen for something to eat, and then knocked at Izzy’s door. There was no reply, but he opened anyway. 

The room smelled of incense. Izzy sat on the bed, a book on his knees. He frowned when he looked up, but the wrinkles smoothed out far enough. 

“Duff?” he asked. “Anything you need?”

“Answers.” Duff walked over to the bed. He nudged Izzy into the side, and he made room for him. 

“Was he your lover?” 

Duff had found out that once he had made the decision to confront Izzy about something, the direct approach was the best. No beating around the bush, no attempts at careful prodding, but brutal honesty. 

Izzy closed the book and put it onto the night stand. “That obvious?” 

Duff nodded. “He wanted to touch you. Desperately.”

And he had noticed because he knew the feeling all too well. 

“You think the constable realized?” 

Was that his only worry? 

Duff shook his head. “He acted confused, but you don’t meet a wizard every day. It’s very unlikely that you two should know each other. You don’t run in the same circles. Also, he did his best to cover up his shock, not because of himself, but because of you. He tried to protect you.”

Which in retrospect had made it all the clearer for him. 

“Duff,” Izzy stopped again. “I promise, there’s nothing…” He shrugged helplessly. 

‘Not on your side,’ Duff thought. But he was sure that for Dr Rowland, ‘nothing’ had not been the word he would use to describe his feelings. And once upon a time there had been ‘something’ on Izzy’s side, too. How cold was the fire and what would it take to rekindle it? 

So far, he had been perplexed by the sudden development of events, but with every thought he spent, jealousy flared up like somebody had poured oil into a flame.

“I know.” Duff wondered if lies could be read in his aura. “He really didn’t know you were a wizard?”

Izzy shook his head. 

“How did you manage to hide the tattoo?”

How could somebody not notice the tattoo?

Izzy twisted his mouth. “Glamoured over.”

“That’s possible?” Duff asked surprised. 

“Yes, but I would not recommend it. It’s one of the things that gets you deported to a workcamp without delay.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Izzy shrugged. “Made sense at the time. It’s a simple spell. You cast it once and it keeps until you cancel it. I just never thought cancelling it would be a good idea.”

Of course not. Why give something away you had successfully hidden from your lover? Then another, equally bitter thought occurred to him. 

“Anything else you’ve been glamouring over?” 

For once he had managed to catch Izzy by surprise. For all of a few seconds he was hamstrung, eyes wide, lips parted, caught out on a lie. Another one. 

“Would you show me?” Duff asked. 

Izzy exhaled and his fingers twitched in need for a cigarette. Then he nodded.

“Don’t tell Axl. He will pester me with questions, and I’m not yet ready to talk about it.”

A reminder that he would show but not deliver answers. 

He closed his eyes and his lips moved silently. Then he started to unbutton his shirt. Duff didn’t know what he had expected, but it was not what was revealed when Izzy parted the fabric. A scar, long and ragged and over half of his belly. A stabbing wound, if Duff wasn’t mistaken. 

‘How,’ he wanted to ask, but didn’t. 

“Thanks,” he said instead. “For showing me.”

Izzy nodded. He closed his eyes and the skin smoothed out into its usual perfectness. Duff shuddered. He would never be able to touch Izzy’s belly again without remembering the scar. And the fact that he had no idea who had caused it. 

“How did you meet him?” Duff asked. 

Izzy hesitated. He made moves to button up his shirt, but stopped. Instead, he turned around and touched Duff’s cheek. 

“It’s so far in the past, I haven’t thought about Giles in ages.”

Izzy’s lips followed his hand, moved down over his jawline, along his throat while his fingers fiddled shirt buttons out of holes 

“Nothing you should worry about.” 

He was already halfway down to his belly, when Duff realized what was happening. If he didn’t keep his wits now, he would yield and find himself flat on his back with a dick up his ass. Not that it was an unpleasant position to be in, but he was not sure that everything had been clarified to his satisfaction. Pushing wouldn’t lead anywhere. Izzy was the grand master of evading uncomfortable topics, but submitting to his advances wouldn’t either. 

“You could give me another lesson.” he said in a feeble attempt to stop Izzy from driving him to distraction. It might be a weird moment for such a request, but the only thing he could come up with on the spot. 

Izzy grabbed his hips and pulled. Duff lost his balance and landed – yes – flat on his back. Izzy straddled him and dedicated himself to naked sink and hardening nipples. 

“What do you think I’m doing here?” he asked. 

Duff rolled his eyes, but the words left a tiny sting. Did Izzy think his sexual skills were lacking? Had Dr Giles Edward Rowland been more satisfying? He was a few years older than Izzy. And he was a doctor. With intimate knowledge of the human body while Duff’s approach was based on fumbling around and listening for reactions. 

His train of thoughts was interrupted when Izzy’s mouth had made its way so far south, that trousers were getting in the way and were subsequently discarded. He smelled the heady aroma of the oil Izzy liked to use and then all ideas about insecurities and gathering information were wiped from his mind as, yes, the second part of his prophecy came true. Maybe he did have magical abilities after all. He gasped and sighed while he was ridden to fulfilment. 

“I love you,” Izzy whispered and pulled the blanket over both of them. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

Izzy wasn’t given to overflowing declarations of love and so Duff cherished the rare times when he said those words aloud. But he was also aware of all the things that had not been said. How he and Dr Rowland had met, for example, why he had used a fake name, how they had become lovers and why he had ‘just vanished’. 

He was willing to let it slide for the moment, didn’t have any choice, really, because if he pushed now, Izzy would likely leave the house and not return for days. But if Izzy thought he had put his mind to rest, then he was wrong. If anything, things got more and more confusing. 

The day had started with being pushed towards Sally Harris. Only hours later, he had met Izzy’s ex-lover, who knew neither Izzy’s name nor his denomination, and whom he had left without telling him, but who still was ready to take him back in a heartbeat. It was all followed up by a wound that might as well have been deadly and which he had been hiding for unknown reasons, and ended with a love declaration. 

If Izzy thought this type of behaviour would endear him to people, it was no miracle that he was living the life of a hermit. 

How much did he know about Izzy? How much did anybody know? And would he wake up one morning, too, like Axl had, like Dr Rowland had, and find out that Izzy had gone for good? No good-bye, no explanation, just … gone. 

And, most importantly, did he want to stay and wait to find out?


	7. Attached

Duff had hoped for a few days of a reprieve from Izzy’s former lover, but the odds were stacked against him. They had just sat down for lunch and were dividing leftovers between the four of them when somebody hammered against the shop door. 

“We’re closed!” Axl, male today, yelled, not caring that not even his voice would carry that far. 

Duff stood up, well aware that the best part of yesterday’s dinner would be gone until he was back. He cast Izzy a pleading look, but Izzy had never understood the importance of proper nourishment and it was unlikely that he would start now. 

“Can I help you?” he asked when he had unlocked the door and looked at a panic-stricken messenger boy. The kid all but tossed an envelope in his direction, pivoted on his heel, and ran off without waiting for a tip. Duff turned it around. Thick paper, Izzy’s name in flowing letters, closed with wax and stamped with some kind of seal he did not recognize. 

“For you,” he said when he was back in the kitchen. He tipped the pot in his direction and sighed at the miserable puddle of brown sauce at its bottom. Right. Bread it was. Hopefully, there was some cheese left. 

“We’re invited for tea, tomorrow,” Izzy said while Duff raided the pantry. He wrinkled his nose as if it was something distasteful. It probably was to him. “The Royes family will be there and I should be able to have a look at the girl. Elaine.”

“Do we have to … pretend anything?” Duff shuddered when he thought about the time when he had had to play at being a footman at Lady Elvira’s summer ball. Never again. 

“No.” Izzy chewed his lower lip. “Maybe a little bit. I mean, we should probably show a bit of … uhm …”

“Attention to detail regarding your outfit?” Axl asked. He smirked, propped his elbow up on the table, and rested his chin on his fist. “I think we still have the top hat somewhere.”

Izzy’s eyes widened until he looked as horrified as Duff felt. “I don’t think that should be necessary,” he said. “Just … something that’s not … hm.” 

Kate snickered at the sink where she was doing the dishes. She never shared meals with them and until now Duff had no idea what a werewolf ate. As she was reluctant to talk about her transformation, he abstained from asking her questions just to satisfy his curiosity. 

“You have anything that would be appropriate for the occasion, Duff?” Axl asked.

Duff nodded. At least he hoped so. Regular payments meant he had a halfway decent wardrobe at his disposal. Nothing was new, nothing was fancy, but most of the time he was better dressed than Izzy. He did however know that Izzy owned clothes that were not collected from the rag pile, but he preferred to wear the same few items day after day until they fell apart. 

“Will Constable Carter come, too?” he asked. 

Izzy shook his head. “And we shouldn’t mention what we are either. We’ll go under the pretence that I know Rowland from … somewhere. Scotland. I’m familiar enough with Pitlochry to pull it off.”

“Really? Let me hear your Scottish accent,” Axl said. 

Izzy made a rude gesture. Axl’s grin grew wider. But Duff wasn’t surprised. They must have met somewhere and Scotland was likely. Had Izzy been travelling through town and stayed for a short affair? Had he lived at Pitlochry for longer? Why, when the only place that coaxed him into settling down was Foxhill? Because of his new lover? Had they gone through all the stages of getting to know each other, falling in love, proper courtship even? Had Izzy done all things couples did with Dr Rowland? Like taking a stroll along the river or a ride in the good doctor’s carriage? All those romantic trifles which Duff sometimes wished for, but never got because Izzy simply wasn’t the type? Or had it been the same forbidden affair he knew so well? Heated sex, burning desire, a smile now and then, a kiss when nobody was watching, but very little else? 

Duff chastised himself for his uncharitable thoughts. It was not Izzy’s fault that they had to handle their relationship with care, and as a magical person, he would not get away with a slap onto his wrist if they were found out committing to forbidden sexual activities. Openly declaring their love was impossible for them, and he had known this before he had signed up for it. 

“And what do you do for a living?” he asked, wondering what Izzy had done for a living when he had been in love with Dr Giles Rowland. Obviously, he had not worked as a wizard. “Topics like that tend to come up, as far as I know.”

Izzy shrugged. “Sell herbs and spices. Which is where you come in. You’re keeping the books for me because I have no idea.”

“I have no idea either,” Duff said. He didn’t. He made lists of stuff Izzy destroyed. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Izzy dismissively waved one hand. “Nobody will care. It will be weird enough that Dr Rowland is friends with a shopkeeper, but they’ll brush it off as his happiness about meeting somebody from his hometown. He’s also not too high on the social ladder, yet. Newroad seems to be a step up for him. Or several. They’ll look down on us, but tolerate our presence out of politeness and to do him a favour.”

“Why would he lie for you?” Slash asked. “To his friends?”

It was a good question, Duff had to admit. Maybe for the same reason, Izzy was lying to Slash and Axl about Dr Rowland. Which was strange enough. Why did it have to be such a secret? So far, Duff had focussed on his jealousy, but what reasons did Izzy have to keep it from his friends? 

“He was very worried about his reputation,” Izzy circumvented the question smoothly. It wasn’t a lie, Duff noticed, it was exactly what Dr Rowland had said. “He will not be keen on letting anybody know what I’m doing. And I promised to be …,” he rolled his eyes, “… discreet.” 

Duff chewed on his bread. Was this all there was behind the invitation? He had organized it damned fast. Or was it a badly veiled attempt at getting Izzy back into his life by introducing him as an old acquaintance? Nobody would be suspicious if Izzy came by now and then, for a short visit, a chat with the dear doctor. It was all a bit too convenient for his taste. 

Axl stood up. “Sorry, folks, I have work to do. Izzy, I sincerely suggest that you borrow some of my clothes for tomorrow. Because, sorry … I guess no need to elaborate, huh?” 

“The pink dress would look nice,” Duff couldn’t stop himself. 

Izzy lifted his eyebrows. “Really?” he clucked his tongue. “You surprise me, Duff. But you know me, I can never say no to you.”

Duff blushed. 

Axl snorted. “Would be a bit short on you. On the other hand, you’re probably skinny enough to fit into it. But if you rip it, you’ll buy me a new one. I do have fitting bows if you want. Although, those might look better on Duff. Would go nicely with his blond hair. Let me know when you’ve decided. I’ll be up in the laboratory.”

“Awesome,” Izzy said. 

Duff collected the plates for Kate before somebody suggested fetching the bows and check out how they looked on him. She lifted soapy arms out of the water and made room for him to place them into the sink. When he turned around, they were all gone.

Izzy had it right, he thought. Awesome. 

+++

Axl was more excited about the invitation than was justified for somebody who wasn’t invited.

Duff would never dare say it aloud, but he had the suspicion that Axl wouldn’t have said   
no to a bit more societal engagement than Foxhill had to offer. He would be the right person for that, too. Beautiful, flamboyant, just enough over the top to be exciting without ever skipping into vulgar. 

Axl was made to host charity balls, church picknicks or the meetings of the women’s society for the protection of the short beaked double-banded plover. He would squeeze the last penny out of any philanthropist who was unlucky enough to step into one of his assemblies, and rope unwilling people into providing prizes for the lottery in support of the convalescent home for unwedded mothers. Axl would be the queen of Whittlingsfield’s high society. But being a wizard was enough to make sure he would never get a chance to live out the full potential of this side. 

As Axl was having a female day, Duff had almost suggested that he should accompany Izzy as his pretend wife. It would not be the first time they played this game and it would shut up Dr Rowland for good. Nobody had a chance to shine next to Axl. Maidens half his age and tenfold his wealth paled and dulled in his company, and even Dr Giles Edward Rowland would realize that he was left with no other choice than to strike his colours when Axl laid claim to Izzy. Or pretended to. 

Axl was short of making the same suggestion. The longing on his face spoke volumes. He had demanded to be part of the dress up process, and after a bit of perfunctory grumbling, Izzy had agreed. In fact, he hadn’t seemed too unhappy about it. One thing Duff had to give to Izzy: he knew his limits and dressing up for tea with Mr and Mrs Jonathan Brooks whose eldest daughter was married to somebody of lesser nobility, was outside his competence.

Now they stood in Axl’s bedroom room while Axl tied a cravat around Izzy’s neck. 

“You’re choking me,” he complained, which Axl rewarded by pulling it tighter. 

“Hey”” Izzy yelled and tried to move his head to the side. 

“Quiet,” Axl said without interrupting the strangulation. 

Even on male days, he was a little shorter than Izzy, but as he made up for it by more muscle mass, his clothes fit well enough. Izzy had rejected anything colorful, but Duff had the feeling that Axl had mainly pulled all of his heavily embroidered peacock-coloured waistcoats out of the wardrobe to rile him up. 

“What do you say?” Axl turned Izzy into Duff’s direction. “Good?”

Duff swallowed. He loved Izzy’s disheveled appearance, it was just so … endearing, and took away a bit of the imbalance between them. But he did clean up nicely. 

“Stop messing with your hair, Izzy!”

Izzy’s hand had automatically been on its way up to his head, but he only sighed in defeat when Axl slapped his fingers. Duff stifled a smile. Latest when they reached Heatherfield, it would be tousled. There was no way around it. 

“Don’t tear the clothes off him right away,” Axl said and Duff realized that he hadn’t stopped staring and probably smiled idiotically. “Now you, come on.”

He crooked his fingers and gave him the once over, adjusted his shirt collar, and chose one of his own cravats to choke him with. Duff understood why Izzy had complained. It pressed uncomfortably onto his Adam’s apple. He swallowed. 

“As you’re just the bookkeeper, it should be all right,” Axl finally decided. He didn’t look overly happy with the result. Maybe his sense for the dramatic felt left out with all the muted colours. 

Unlike Izzy, Duff was not able to borrow much from Axl, but his clothes were clean, halfway new, and looked good enough for somebody in a not overly well-paying occupation. At least he hoped so. 

“Can we go now?” Izzy asked. “Or … don’t know … do you want to braid some flowers into Duff’s hair?”

Axl smirked. “You’d like that, huh. Should I fetch the pink bows?” 

Izzy rolled his eyes. 

They walked down into the corridor. Lucy had done her best to bring his shoes up to shine, but scuffed leather was scuffed leather and the effect was limited. He hoped that people wouldn’t be too interested in his feet. While Izzy was again able to borrow Axl’s shoes, Duff was left with the choice to either make do with what he had or hack off a few of his toes, and some measures were too drastic to take for the sake of playing pretend. 

When they passed through the shop room, he had to chuckle. The top hat lay on the counter. Izzy eyed it full of disgust. He picked it up and was just about to put it on when he stopped and looked inside. Startled he pulled something out and held it up. It was a curly, black hair. 

“Are you playing dress-up with Slash?” Izzy asked. His eyes widened comically and the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. 

Axl was suddenly very busy with one of the drawers. 

Izzy snorted. “Do you also tie the pink bow around his tail?”

“You’ll be late,” Axl said while he sorted through amulets. 

“What are you wearing when you do this?” Izzy put on the hat. 

Half of Axl’s face was hidden by hair, but the rest of it flushed crimson. 

“Oh, I suppose I don’t want to know.” Izzy smirked, and Duff was sure that the information would come in handy sooner or later. Izzy was not beyond blackmail to reach his goals. “

“Come one, Duff, or we’ll be late.” He put on the top hat and snickered under his breath as he stepped out on the street. 

To Duff’s relief, he didn’t bring up the image of Axl and Slash and their bedroom games again. Unlike Izzy, he had a good idea how Axl’s underwear looked. He liked to blame the attraction spell for his temporary loss of self-control but seeing his very female body in nothing but flimsy layers of silk had been one hell of a turn on. He had to have his wits together and keep Izzy out of Dr Rowland’s clutches, not fantasize about the shape and feel of Axl’s breasts. 

Briskly, they headed down Stakesby Road, and towards the border of Foxhill. Having a working contract that covered additional costs had a huge advantage: As soon as they had reached the more reputable quarters of the town, they could take a cab and bill it to the constabulary of Whittlingsfield.

They were not late, just fashionably not in time. The servant showed them into a different room, larger, and facing the garden through a pair of French doors. The arrangement of sofas, armchairs and tables was less rigid than in the salon they knew, and the whole atmosphere touched on informal. 

Dr Rowland had recovered from the shock of coming face to face with his former lover, it seemed. 

“Stradlin,” he said as if greeting an old friend. “And Mr McKagan, wasn’t it? Let me introduce you.”

He jovially put a hand on Izzy’s shoulder and Duff’s jealousy, carefully kept in check, flared up. Izzy’s back muscles stiffened for a second, but he relaxed instantly. Dr Rowland led them towards a divan at the back of the room, where two women were chatting amicably. 

They didn’t get far. After they had made the first few steps, a girl of about ten came careening through an open door. She almost ran into them, stopped at the last moment, and tossed a handful of blond hair over her shoulder. The blue silk ribbon shifted on her head and hung now slightly lopsided above her left ear. 

“I’m sorry,” she stammered and looked first at Duff and then at Izzy. 

“Anabelle!” one of the women exclaimed. “What did I tell you about running! I’m so sorry, Mr …” she stood up from the couch and came over. 

“Mrs Brooks,” Dr Rowland said. “May I introduce my good friend Mr Stradlin to you? I was so surprised when I ran into him the other day and just had to invite him. Stradlin, this is my dear hostess Mrs Jonathan Brooks. It is due to her and her husband’s hospitality that I was able to accept this new challenge.”

“My pleasure, Mrs Brooks,” Izzy said and inclined his head.

Once again, Duff realized, that Izzy did know how common courtesy worked. Which made abstaining from showing manners in everyday life a conscious decision.

Mrs Brooks replied with a few polite words and a smile that did not seem fully sincere. 

Duff was next. He hesitated but decided it would be best if he followed Izzy’s lead in this matter and repeat his actions with, as he was the person of the lowest standing in this company, an additional touch of deference. As nobody gave him any disbelieving glances, the approach seemed to work out. 

Then Mrs Brooks took the girl by her shoulders. 

“This is my daughter, Anabelle. I apologize for her behaviour, but I’m afraid, as the youngest, we might have spoiled her a little bit.”

Anabelle rectified her stormy entrance with an almost perfect curtsy. 

“Where is Elaine?” Mrs Brooks asked. 

“Still in the garden,” Anabelle replied. She chewed her lip in a way that reminded Duff of Izzy. It was enough to make him warm up to her. That and her not quite ladylike attitude and behaviour. 

“In the garden?” Mrs Brooks exclaimed. “She has only now recovered from her illness. Go and get her inside at once, Anabelle!”

The girl pulled a grimace. Then she curtsied again and was off, only slightly slower than before. 

“Let me introduce you to my dear friend, Mrs Royes.” Mrs Brooks took over the hostess role. “My husband was caught up by business, but he should be here shortly.”

The introductions repeated themselves and Duff was already getting exhausted. Maybe it was easier when one grew up in such an environment, but pretending to be above what he was, made him feel like a far too transparent fraud. 

They exchanged more inane civilities, about the weather, the extremely wet spring, how Pitlochry in summer was just like Whittlingsfield was now, how Dr Rowland had attended university in Edinburgh with Mrs Brook’s husband, ‘his dear friend Jonathan’, how everybody was looking forward to the start of the season, there was no end to it. 

Izzy was rather quiet, offering meaningless comments here and there, which made the others chat among themselves. Duff stood by and listened and answered what few questions were directed at him. Where did he come from? Oh, from Ireland? How did he like Whittlingsfield? Wasn’t it a lovely town? 

After a few minutes, Anabelle returned from the garden with a girl who was as rigid as she was lively. Elaine Royes, face blank, dark hair perfect, left her friend behind without a look back and joined the adults. 

“Are you cold, dear?” Mrs Royes asked and took her hand. 

“I’m fine, mother.” She curtsied and offered a forced smile that looked as artificial as that of a doll. 

Izzy watched her out of the corner of his eye and Duff wondered how much of her aura he would manage to read like this. He never understood how it worked or how Izzy was able to purposefully not see everything there was to see. Izzy had tried to explain it to him. Some aspects sprang out so clearly that he couldn’t avoid noticing them. But for most issues he had to spend time observing the swirling and changes in patterns, the way dots or clouds assembled and separated, how light flashed up and faded again. 

“It’s movement,” he had said. “Not a picture.”

Anabelle stayed behind. She sat slumped on a sofa as far away from the others as possible, legs stretched out from under her white dress, arms crossed in front of her chest, lips pulled into a pout. Her bow had slipped another inch to the side. Duff, forgotten as now everybody talked about how well-behaved and accomplished Elaine was, slunk away from the group and sat down next to her. 

“You must be happy to have your friend back if she was so sick,” he said. 

She turned her head into his direction and eyed him with a hint of suspicion as if he was asking her a catchy question. 

“Yes,” she said. “Everybody is happy.” Her face, if anything turned glummer. 

“You spend a lot of time together?”

“We used to.” 

Duff waited. 

“We used to have a lot of fun.”

“Not anymore?” He made sure to keep his voice neutral, not judging her for her lack of joy about her recovered friend. 

Anabelle sighed. “She’s different,” he said. “She doesn’t like … anything.”

“Oh.” Duff’s first impulse was to point out that maybe she was still feeling under the weather, but that would shut her up, and they were here to make people talk. Or look at their auras. “How?”

“Like … Fluffy?”

“Fluffy?” Duff asked. “Your dog?”

She nodded. “Elaine loved him. Her parents don’t allow her a dog. She was always all over him when she was here. But now? He came running and she didn’t look at him at all. But that’s good, I suppose because Fluffy doesn’t like her anymore either. He growled at her. He never growls at anybody. Unless you try to take his bones, then he bites.”

That, Duff agreed, was indeed weird. 

“Do you have a dog?” Anabelle asked. 

“Hector,” Duff said distractedly. He looked over to Elaine. The whole group had relocated to couches and armchairs and Elaine sat primly like a little adult next to her mother, staring off into space instead of following the conversation. 

“What breed of dog is he?” Anabelle asked. 

“What? Oh. No breed, really. He’s like this.” Duff indicated a loaf of bread with both hands. “He’s not very fluffy.” In fact, Hector had little fur at all. But he could grow into the size of a pony and that had to count for something. 

“Do you want to see Fluffy?” Anabelle asked. 

Duff hesitated. Within his own circles, it would have been perfectly normal to have a girl show him her dog, but here he wasn’t so sure. In the end, he decided to not give a damn and nodded. She took his hand and pulled him out and into the garden, past early daffodils and late snowdrops, all in neatly arranged flowerbeds. 

Fluffy turned out to be a little terrier with formerly white fur. Right now, and from what Duff could see around backside, hind legs and wagging tail, was muddy brown. The rest of the dog, up to his chest, was buried in a hole he was digging at the foot of a drystone wall. 

“Oh no!” Anabelle groaned. “Fluffy.” 

She pulled him out, but as soon as she let go, the tiny dog was back inside the hole, the little front paws digging furiously. He bit off pieces of turf and spat them out angrily, then sniffed to check if the course of direction was still appropriate before he dived back into his mouse hunt. 

“Mother will be outraged!” Anabelle grabbed the dog again. “The flower garden is her pride. She promised Mrs Royes a tour later, when you’re all gone.”

Her dress was getting smudgy and to keep her from any more trouble, Duff picked Fluffy up and held him to his chest. He wriggled and fought like a maniac, but when they walked a few steps away from the hole, he calmed. Duff put him down. 

“He’s a great dog,” he squatted next to him and looked at the dirt-covered face. Fluffy shook his head, but a brown ring remained around his nose. “Fierce little fighter.”

“Yes, he is.” Anabelle joined them on the ground. Her expression had lit up, her weirdly changed friend forgotten for the moment. “If you give him a bone, you better stay away from him.”

They found a stick which they tossed around for Fluffy, until Duff noticed a woman of maybe twenty approaching them in a brisk step. A simple chignon, a grey, straight skirt, white blouse and total lack of adornment to her dress, made her appear a lot more severe than the fanciful young ladies of society. 

“Miss Anabelle!” she exclaimed. “Your mother is looking for you.”

“That’s my governess,” she whispered and pulled a grimace. “I’m coming Miss Jones!” She stood up and straightened her dress. “Oh dear.” She looked at a set of pawprints on her skirt. “I’m afraid I will have to change first.”

Duff could call himself lucky that white was not the usual colour of a gentleman’s trousers, or he could have said the same about his own outfit. As it was, he managed to brush off the worst of the dirt and went in search for Izzy. Anabelle waved at him back over her shoulder as Mrs Jones pulled her away. Fluffy, he noticed, had taken the opportunity and returned to the hole under the drystone wall. 

The salon was empty. A footman showed him to a corridor and pointed to a door at the end which stood slightly ajar. Duff briskly walked the first few yards but slowed down when he heard Izzy’s voice, too low to clearly understand. Then Rowland replied and just when Duff was about to speed up, he said. 

“So is McKagan your …”

“No,” Izzy replied. 

“I’m sorry,” Rowland quickly said. “He seems…,”

“Seems what?” Izzy’s voice darkened. “He’s my assistant. Nothing else.”

Duff froze, his innards going cold. It was, of course, what they had agreed on. Nobody ran around and announced their sodomitical propensities to the public, but to be denied plain as this hurt more than he had thought. 

“My apologies. I was overstepping. So, you’re … unattached?”

“Giles!” Izzy was positively growling now. “Put it aside.”

“Of course. I was just … you can’t blame me. One day I got up and you were gone. Not even a note, nothing. I wondered what I had done, how I had caused you to do something like that. Then, out of the blue, you stand in front of me and I learn that the name you gave me was wrong, that you are a wizard, of all things, and … Why did you do it? Were you afraid? That I might … turn on you if you told me the truth? That would be a reason I can understand, but ... give me one.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Izzy said, but former lover or not, Rowland had no idea when one better stopped pushing it with Izzy. 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Izzy snorted. 

“You almost destroyed my life, Jeffrey.”

Eavesdropping was not Duff’s modus operandi. His instant reaction was to run down the door and tell Dr Giles Edward Rowland where he could stick his desires, but he didn’t have enough breath left for such an act. His heart was beating so high up in his throat, it almost came out of his mouth, and he wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers while he stood and listened. 

“Stop using that name. And stop being melodramatic. It’s been years. And I wasn’t the love of your life.”

“How do you want to know that?” Rowland asked, his voice going soft. “I kept waiting for you. I started looking for you. And when you didn’t come back, I …”

“What?” Izzy asked tiredly. 

“I married. To forget about you. Came to nothing, of course.” He laughed harshly. “She took our son to her family and I looked for an opportunity to leave Pitlochry. Not only because of the marriage but because everything reminded me of … us. I was so glad when Brooks offered me this opportunity. Only to run right into you.”

“Don’t blame it on me,” Izzy said. “You …”

Duff heard footfall, some servant hurrying up a staircase, and he quickly covered the last yards, making sure his steps would be audible. Izzy broke off. Duff knocked at the door and fully opened it. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Anabelle wanted to show me her dog.”

“Ah, Fluffy.” 

Rowland forced a smile. Izzy’s face was unreadable. 

“I think we’re done here,” he said with a curt nod. “Thanks for … the opportunity. Good afternoon.”

“Wait,” Rowland said when Izzy turned away from him. He reached out but snatched his hand back before touching his arm. “Did you … what did you find out?”

Izzy stopped and gave him a pensive look. “I’m not at liberty to say,” he said. “I’m contracted by the police. Ask Constable Carter, he will let you know.”

Duff breathed easier when they were outside. He wouldn’t have minded walking all the way back to Foxhill, if just to march the tension out of his muscles, but Izzy hailed down a cab. 

“So, what did you find out?” he asked when it was the last thing on his mind. “Elaine Royes?”

“Her aura is completely flat.” Izzy tore at Axl’s cravat until it hung loosely around his neck. “It’s there, don’t get me wrong, she’s not dead. But she has been dead at a time.”

“Anabelle says she has changed.”

“How?” Now Izzy looked curious. 

“Not interested in things she used to like. They were good friends before, but now she is … like a shell? And the dog, Fluffy, he growls at her when before they were best friends. If she was really dead, could that have damaged something? In her brain?”

“Hm.” Izzy tapped a finger against his lips. “Not like this. I mean, no idea about her brain, but not her aura. I need to think about it, but … I do have a suspicion.”

“And that would be?” Duff asked. Izzy was not good at tossing out speculations. Usually, he thought everything through to the end before he offered it up to the public, but sometimes he was taking it too far. They were a team, they should be bouncing ideas off each other. 

Izzy sighed. “I think she was resurrected. By use of magic. And I think, what we are dealing with, is not Elaine, but either something occupying her body or somebody steering her body. Like a puppet.”

“Demonic possession?” Duff asked. Did demons exist? No, surely not. 

“Yes,” Izzy confirmed the impossible. “As I said, either somebody is pulling her strings, or somebody pulled something out of another dimension and transferred it into her body. Which is never a good idea.”

“You don’t say,” Duff muttered. “So, it’s like it was with … the Fea?”

Izzy shook his head. “Dimensions are different. There isn’t a firm border more like … a veil, you could say. If you know how, you can pass through. Takes a bit of skill, but nothing extraordinary.”

Duff’s opinion was different, but he kept silent. Axl was a very talented wizard, in several areas far above Izzy’s level of skill, yet he was not able to cross over into other spheres. 

“But to become physical in another dimension, you need a body to occupy. Like … I can cross over to the demon dimension. I just prefer not to for … obvious reasons.” He grimaced. “But I am not able to act over there. I would need to take over a body and therefore somebody from there would have to provide one for me.”

“So, what you’re saying is …,” Duff let everything run through his head once more, “… somebody here is providing bodies for demons from another dimension?”

Izzy nodded. “Could be. Or just resurrect people to let them dance. But what for? They’re not really alive. It’s like an animated piece of taxidermy.”

“Who would be able to do that?”

A shrug. “Me. Axl. If we wanted, definitely. Other? I don’t know. Necromancy is kind of icky.” He pulled a face. “I need to read up on it, I suppose. Only we don’t have any books that would cover it in detail. As I said it’s … ugh.” He made a retching noise. “But it’s not high witchery or something. Rather pretty primitive stuff.”

After that brief explanation, Izzy forgot about him. Deep in thoughts, he played with the top hat in his lap. It hadn’t spent much time on Izzy’s head, mostly he had carried it around. 

“So,” he suddenly sat up straight, done with whatever he had been thinking about. “Feel up for another lesson?”

“Here?” Duff asked. “Can we wait until we’re home? Please?”

Izzy laughed. “Sure,” he said. “Yes, this might not be … perfect. But if you like, I mean... there’s time.”

Duff nodded. He slumped back and for the rest of the way looked absentmindedly out of the window.

Izzy hadn’t seemed to be interested in renewing his relationship with Rowland. He had been rather standoffish as far he had been able to listen in. 

Duff gave himself a mental kick. He should give up on his jealousy and think about this demon issue, but instead, Rowland’s words ran circles in his head. ‘So, you’re unattached?’ 

Izzy had avoided the question, but he hadn’t denied it.


	8. Bedevilled

Duff expected Izzy to run off on him once they were home, drag about a dozen books to his room and to turn overnight into an expert on necromancy, but instead he repeated his offer for another lesson and asked him upstairs. 

He settled on the bed and watched how Izzy pulled off the cravat with an air of utter relief, and unbuttoned Axl’s vest. 

Suddenly he noticed his own cravat getting uncomfortably tight. He may prefer Izzy’s sloppy wizard persona to the polished version, but ever since Lady Elvira’s summer ball, relieving Izzy of posh clothes, made a recurrent performance in his fantasies. 

Izzy tossed the vest onto the ornamented chair when he noticed the attention. He smirked a little. 

“What type of lesson did you have in mind?” Duff asked a little dry mouthed. “Like last time? You hit me with a spell and I find a way to get out?”

Izzy, that bastard, took his time to open the first two buttons of his pristine white shirt, before he joined him on the bed. 

“What type of lesson do you think you need the most?” he asked, eyebrows raised, voice lowered. 

Another button followed and Duff’s attempt to come up with a witty reply, died somewhere in the recesses of his brain. He swallowed. 

“We … should probably not get distracted.”

“No?” Izzy sat back. “You’re right, I suppose.”

Duff decided the extra inch was intolerable. And couldn’t he maybe open another button? Right now, all he could see was a hint of collarbone and that was by no means enough. 

“How about…” The tip of Izzy’s tongue flicked over his lower lip. “How about we combine … different types of lessons?”

“How about…,” Duff stuttered. “You mean …”

“You don’t want me to bewitch you during sex. So … fight it off.”

Duff swallowed, but it was of no use. Saliva pooled in his mouth faster than he could get rid of it. Maybe Izzy had the same wet dreams about getting people out of posh clothes because he reached for Duff’s cravat and slowly, lovingly worked it lose. 

“There,” he said without breaking eye contact. “Isn’t that better?”

The cravat was gone, but Izzy’s fingers lingered, brushed over the shirt collar, fiddled for a second with the first button, the second, the third … and pulled away. 

“What do you say?” He asked all matter-of-fact, as if they had discussed whether there would be cheese or bacon on the sandwiches today. 

Duff couldn’t stop himself. His own fingers came up, and he touched the little bit of naked skin at the base of Izzy’s throat. He shuddered. “Only if you give me a chance.”

Izzy cocked his head. “Be precise. Tell me what you do and what you don’t agree to.”

“You can jinx me,” Duff said. “But you have to use something easy. Like the other spell. On the cart. Not … not something I can’t win against.”

Izzy’s face lit up and Duff knew, he had lost before the game had started, just by agreeing to play. Izzy had expected the usual ‘no’. 

“Don’t worry.” His voice turned too smooth to be true. How was the bastard doing that? He could read Axl’s ledgers to him, Duff would still get hard from it. “It will be a very light spell. But whether you’ll want to fight it off, now, that will be another question.”

Duff swallowed nervously. It was exactly what he had been fearing. “When …” 

“Oh, no, that would be cheating.” Izzy’s lips were suddenly close to his ear and he had no idea when he had moved. “It will be a far better challenge if you don’t know, won’t it?”

Izzy sat back and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. Duff shivered in anticipation. He couldn’t help but look for the scar, which wasn’t visible, of course. 

“I mean, we’re solely doing this for the learning effect, aren’t we?” Back to bacon or cheese on the sandwich. Izzy should write a book. ‘How to use your voice to drive people mad.’ 

“Of course.” Duff stared while the shirt lapels moved over Izzy’s body, covering and uncovering it with every shift. 

“Good thing we’re clear about this. I would hate if either of us got confused about the purpose. You know you will be bewitched. But when, where, how?” 

He smiled a little, unreadable, mercurial, and Duff remembered that Izzy wasn’t fully human. He had no idea about the fae, except for the stories he had been told as a child, but one thing they all had in common: the fae were mischievous and liked to play pranks on unsuspicious people. Duff was not unsuspicious, but delivering himself into Izzy’s hands like this suddenly sounded a bit dangerous. Oh, he wouldn’t be hurt. But afterwards he might crave what he so far had rejected: magically enhanced sex. 

“Shall we begin?” Izzy asked. “Or do you need another moment to collect yourself?”

Duff shook his head. Izzy allowed him to take the lead, and he got his treat of undressing his lover. He took a lot of time doing so, hoping to delay the inevitable spell that way, but how was he supposed to know? Maybe he was hit while he was busy with Izzy’s trousers? There had been a hand in his hair at that time, loving, caressing, transmitting magic? Normally it was easy to say: it started when he got touched. But how would he notice when touch was constant?

Soon there was nothing but naked skin between them. The heat that curled through his belly, was it genuine? Surely, he didn’t get aroused this fast, did he? He looked away from Izzy, tried to cool off, and while it was difficult, it worked. So, no, not yet. 

Izzy chuckled and rolled him onto his back. “Don’t think so much.” 

He dived in, and Duff thought that Izzy didn’t need magic to enhance his performance. It was his fingers, he had decided long ago, and his talent to hone in on where it hurt … or satisfied most. And maybe his ability to read sexual arousal from somebody’s aura. 

Eventually, Duff gave up. He didn’t notice any difference at all, and if he was jinxed, so be it. He wouldn’t find out and there was no reason to not enjoy what he was offered freely. He moaned softly, when Izzy’s insistence to make him feel good reached a new level of intensity, lost himself in the sensation and then, all of a sudden, he knew what was wrong. Yes, Izzy’s hands were surely blessed by all the gods of the old Gaelic pantheon, but he definitely didn’t have that many, and he was not able to touch him everywhere at the same time. 

Duff’s eyes flew open and Izzy looked down at him, pupils blown wide under half-closed lids. His movements, that maddening, deep-reaching slide, slowed and then the bastard had the audacity to smile. 

“Yes,” he said. “You’re really good at this. Want me to release you?” 

“Gods no,” Duff breathed. “Don’t you dare.”

“Told you so,” Izzy said smugly, but before Duff could smack him, Izzy’s lips crashed against his and his body dissolved into a hot, wet, tingling mess. 

“We don’t have to repeat this,” Izzy said, when they were lying wrapped around each other on the bed. “I know I tricked you a little bit.”

Duff sighed. “Yes, you did. But I was eager to give in, so … don’t worry about it.” He didn’t know if he wanted a repeat, but on the other hand, resisting it further was kind of pointless. “I don’t have to decide now, do I?”

“No.” Izzy kissed him. 

“So, this is another way to feel?” Duff asked. “It wasn’t really mind altering.”

“Not much.” Izzy shifted and settled more comfortably. “I can, of course, get you into a state of total ecstasy, where you’ll forget your name and scream mine in wild abandon…”

Duff pinched him into his side, but Izzy laughed. 

“… but I agree, that would be a bit much for a start. As I said, not every spell is meant to take you out. This was just … call it a treat. Made you feel what you were feeling anyway, just …”

“… everywhere,” Duff finished for him. 

“Yes. Was it so bad?” The question sounded genuine, not as if Izzy tried to tease him. 

“You know it wasn’t,” Duff muttered. 

His further resistance felt a bit childish, but the cause of his objections remained valid. Yes, it had been awesome, but how was he supposed to return a favour like that? It had to be boring for Izzy, when he knew what heights of pleasure were reachable. How could he find it satisfying having to cook on a small flame all the time?

“I can promise you one thing,” Izzy said. He pushed himself up and looked down on him, the playful sparkle gone from his eyes. “I will never induce emotions that are not real. I will never trick you into feeling things for me that you wouldn’t feel anyway.”

“I know,” Duff said. And he did. Maybe he was an insecure bundle of jealousy and paranoia around Izzy lately, but this was not part of his fears. 

“Good.” Izzy kissed him and laid his head back onto his chest. “Any other worries I need to dispel? Because you seem a bit … distracted lately.”

It was an opening one hardly ever received from Izzy. He would sooner make a human sacrifice than offer himself up for unlimited questioning like that. 

“Dr Rowland wants you back,” Duff said. It hurt like hell to say the words. He wished Izzy would laugh them off, but he didn’t. Of course not, they both knew they were true. His arms tightened automatically around his lover. His. Not Dr Giles Edward Rowland’s. 

“He does.” Izzy’s hand lay on Duff’s stomach and played with the peach fuzz below his navel. “Doesn’t mean I want him.”

“Why not?” Duff, ever the idiot, asked. “I mean, why does he think he’s got a chance? What …”

“I’m not talking about this, Duff,” Izzy dislodged himself out of the embrace. He lay on his side, elbow propped up and head resting in his hand. His eyes turned hard. “I know this came as a shock for you. For me, too, believe me. Still, I am not interested in reviving ... anything. Giles can desire me all he wants, that’s not going to change my opinion. You could break it off with me today and I wouldn’t go back ot him. But I won’t elaborate about this … this … I mean it.” He slapped his hand onto the cover. 

‘Why?’ Duff wanted to ask. What the hell had happened between them? But unlike some other people, he knew Izzy’s ‘end of discussion voice’ and pushing would result in bruising his forehead at a wall of granite. 

It was a question of trust, he decided and if he didn’t trust Izzy, then nothing he did or didn’t say would end his worries. Right. Trust it was. Until Izzy gave him reason to distrust his loyalty he wouldn’t doubt him anymore. 

“What other types of spells are there?” he asked to stop himself from dropping into a pool of self-pity. “Do they all make you feel … good somehow?”

“No.” Izzy’s gratefulness about the change of topic was palpable. The firm line of his mouth softened and his eyes lost their hardness. “You can also create fear. Pain, fury, despair. Whatever you want.”

“And will we … practice that, too?” It sounded scary, if Duff was honest. 

Izzy hesitated. “Eventually we should, I suppose. But not now. And not soon. And definitely not before you have a good handle on general spells. So, not within the next … fifty years or so.”

“You think I’m that bad?” Duff asked offended. “You said I did well!”

“You do.” Izzy smiled, but it looked sad. “And I’m not just saying that. You are good at noticing when somebody is messing with you. That’s the biggest part of it. Getting out of a spell is easiest before it had time to take over all of your brain. Shaking it off when it tries to get a hold, that doesn’t require any deep knowledge of magic. Just a bit of willpower. As a kid I sometimes tried to bewitch Axl. No chance. He’d kick me right out of his mind.”

Duff smiled. Whenever Izzy told him childhood stories about him and Axl they were awfully cute. But then he circled back to what he had said before. “You mean, anybody can do it? Resist any spell there is?”

“Yes. Of course, it’s easier to realize what is happening when you know how to weave a spell, but it’s not the most important part. You have to notice that somebody is messing with you and then you have to put all of your willpower up and direct it against it. Like a battering ram against a wall. If you reject the spell it can’t gain hold. It’s impossible. The trick to bewitch somebody is in making him think that he has no alternative but to accept.”

“Why would somebody accept something like … pain, for example?” Duff asked, honestly bewildered. The odd peacefulness or the heightened arousal, sure, that was tempting to submit to, but pain?

Izzy borrowed his face in the pillow. “It’s not a nice concept.”

“But shouldn’t I know? If we are dealing with vampires and they use mind control and shit like that?” 

Izzy pushed himself up again and cast him a pleading look. Duff stared back, trying very hard not to blink. 

“I’d rather keep you away from vampires in general,” he muttered. “But … you do have a point.” He rolled onto his back and wiped both hands over his face. Then he started, his voice obtaining a slightly distanced tone, as if he was reading from a book. 

“An experienced spell user will make it difficult for you to notice that he planted something into your head. It will crawl in slowly and when you notice it’s too late. Newcomers tend to hit hard and fast, but that also means, you’ll know right away. If you have your wits together, you can recover from the blow and realign your defences.”

“Like hitting somebody in the face when you should know you’ll have no opportunity to fully take him out? Compared to … dunno … poisoning their food over weeks?”

“Exactly. If you want to take somebody’s mind apart,” he hesitated, as if searching for the right memories, “fear is a lot better than pain. Start with small things, which make sense to a certain degree. Like worrying about finances. Or that your spouse is cheating on you. The harvest being bad, your shop going bankrupt. Stuff like that. Make it gnawing, insisting, but believable. Then build up on it. Add other, more obscure fears, like, your child might fall sick, when in fact it’s strappingly healthy. Your neighbour is stealing your eggs. Somebody is out to get you.”

“That’s nasty,” Duff said. “We had somebody like that in Tuam. In the end he killed his wife and all his children.”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “Fear causes the brain to decompose. And when you have reached a certain level of destruction, you can plant ideas. Like, it will be better for your family to be just dead. Or you are better off dead yourself. You could also inflict pain, of course, if that’s your goal. Starting with headaches is a good idea, and have them grow over time. If you know it’s not genuine, you can usually shake it off. The real art lies in making the victim believe that it’s all natural. And if you are excellent at your trade, you can weave a spell that goes in cadences without you having to renew it. You plant it in a chance encounter, like, running into the target in a busy marketplace, touch him as if by accident, kick off the spell and it develops over weeks.”

“How do you know which fears to plant?” It sounded complicated. 

“You don’t.” Izzy pulled his lips into an unpleasant smile. “The perfect spell draws the fears out of the darkest corners of your brain.”

“That’s what vampires do?” Duff asked. 

“No.” Izzy rolled onto his side again to look at him. “Or yes, if they decide to turn you into a minion. That can take as they have to thoroughly twist your brain. But if you’re just food? Far too much trouble. They either try to seduce you or petrify you with fear. Those two methods work best. And they hit you full force, so, yes, if you know how, you have a good chance to fight it off. Which should surprise them because non-magical people usually have no idea about this.”

Duff pondered this for a moment. It was a side of magic he had never thought much about. For him magic was mainly Axl’s lights and sparkles and Izzy’s trips into foreign worlds. But there was a dark side to magic, one that wasn’t made to help but destroy people.

“Do you know anybody who has done … stuff like that?” he asked. 

“Yes, Duff,” Izzy said. His hand was back on Duff’s belly, his fingers moving nervously over his skin. “Yes, I do. I just … don’t like to think about those spells, leave alone use them, and definitely not use them on you. But they are there, they are dangerous, and you’re right, it is my responsibility to teach you to deal with them.”

The last was said as if he had repeated that sentence to himself at least a dozen times. Or if Axl had lectured him about it. 

“It’s all right.” Duff laid his hand over Izzy’s to still its restlessness. He did agree with what indeed sounded much like Axl’s words. He had to know how to deal with those spells, and therefore Izzy had to inflict them on him. But he didn’t want to push it, not now, when for the first time in ages he felt at ease. 

“Whatever you’ll do,” he said and pulled Izzy back into his arms. “It will be all right.” 

They stayed in Izzy’s room – and his bed - until dinner. Or after. They had fallen asleep and only woken up when Axl had hammered at their door and yelled something about soup that was getting cold. 

Duff climbed with a rumbling stomach over the bench at the kitchen table, and found a letter at his place. 

“Which of your countless siblings?” Izzy asked when he noticed his smile. 

“My Mum,” Duff said. “I mean, it was written by Carol, of course, but Mum will have told her what to write.”

Carefully he opened the envelope and started to read. 

“Carol is getting married,” he said. “To … oh man, that’s awesome!” He put down the sheet of paper. “She was about to come over, too. As maid for some gentleman’s elderly mother, you know? He had been in Tuam on business and Carol had worked in the hotel where he had stayed. But now he’s marrying her!”

“That’s really awesome,” Slash said while he put the pot onto the table. Kate always made sure to be home before dark and the days weren’t long yet. 

“She should make sure he marries her before she packs up,” Axl said. 

He looked a bit dubious and Duff knew what he was thinking. Solving the more delicate problems of unmarried maids who had gotten too close to the master of the house was one of the better selling products in his shop. 

“It’s what they’ll do. For exactly that reason.” 

“In that case…” He didn’t look any happier. “Any proof he is what he claims to be?” 

“They’re taking Mum along,” Duff said. 

His father had died last summer, but the message hadn’t reached him until autumn, when he had settled enough to provide his new address to his family. They were all pretty angry with him because everybody had thought he was dead, when in fact he just hadn’t had an idea how to tell them that he had moved in with a group of magical people. In the end, he hadn’t. 

“And because she hasn’t seen her siblings in so long, he …,” Oh. That would mean complications.

“He what?” Axl asked. 

“They want to visit. Me. And the others who live in England, but also …me.”

“Good,” Axl said. “Make sure she’s not too embarrassed to contact you in case things go haywire.”

Duff nodded and stuffed the letter into his pocket. A few hours earlier he had felt unloved because Izzy had denied their relationship, and here he sat and wondered how he got out of the mess of not only denying Izzy’s identity as his lover, but also his complete denomination, his job, his … everything.  
As far as his mother was concerned, he worked for Mr and Mrs Rose, the owners of a spice shop. You didn’t tell your devout catholic mother that you partook in frequent sodomitical acts with a wizard while the shop-owning gender-switching witch enjoyed carnal activities with a cat. You just didn’t! 

He looked at the date of arrival at the bottom of the sheet of paper. He had two more weeks. That wasn’t enough time to send a letter back and clarify … anything. He would have to come clean once they were here. And then his Mum would kill him. Or demand an exorcism. Or first one and then the other, and he was not sure about the chronological order. 

While Duff was considering his impending death, Izzy explained to the others what they had learned earlier that day. 

“Interesting,” Axl said, tapping the spoon against the rim of his plate. Izzy gave him an annoyed look, but it didn’t stop him. “Do you know how it works? In detail, I mean? I’ve never had anything to do with necromancy.”

Izzy shook his head. “Only thing I know is that it’s neither magical nor non magical. It’s in between. Which makes it difficult because bastard magic is always a bit ....”

“Beastly,” Axl said. The tapping stopped. 

“Kind of.” Izzy sighed. “I don’t even know what type of denominations would make the list. Anyway, I need to …,“ He shook himself. “Write a report for the constable. It’s part of the contract.” He glared at Duff as if he had personally made him sign. 

“You’ll let him know?” Axl asked surprised. 

Izzy shrugged. “As I said, it’s part of the contract.”

“Good luck.” Axl returned to his meal. “At least it leaves it to him to explain to this Mrs Whatever that her little girl is practically a corpse.”

Izzy chewed absentmindedly on a piece of bread. “You know,” he finally said, “I’m thinking … yes, that’s actually a good idea.”

“What is?” Axl asked. He looked about as dubious as Duff felt. Izzy’s more killing ideas were usually exactly that: deadly. 

“You know who is an expert in necromancy?”

“Necromancers?” Axl asked, his brows drawn up. “Do you know any? Because if, can we please not ask them over for tea?”

“Vampires. Technically they are necromancers, too. They kill and use the energy it frees for transformation and to rise from the dead.”

“And that’s helping us how exactly?” Axl’s spoon hammered against the plate again, faster this time, and louder. 

Duff was ready to join him. They both knew Izzy well enough to anticipate where this was heading for.

“Ashwin,” Izzy said. “I’ll meet him in another sphere.”

Axl groaned and Duff was ready to dunk his face into his soup. 

“Hear me out,” Izzy went on while crumbling bread all over the table. “He can’t hurt me on another plane because he won’t have a body. And I won’t either. We’ll be just images.”

“And he should help you why?” Duff asked. “I mean, weren’t you just talking the other dayabout burning down his lair?”

“Yes, sure.” Izzy wiped the objection away with a swipe of his bread-free hand. “But it’s worth a try. Vampires don’t tend to take things like that too personally. They make your life hell for the heck of it, not because they hold a personal grudge again you.”

“It isn’t worth a try,” Axl said. “Its crazy. You know it is.” 

“Maybe a little bit.” Izzy tossed the remainder of what had once been a slice of bread into his soup. “But I’ve done crazier.”

It wasn’t the consolation Izzy apparently thought it would be. 

“And do you have something to call him?” Axl asked. “No? Thought so. Next plan.”

“What do you need to call somebody?” Duff asked. 

“Anything,” Izzy replied. “Or rather anything that contains a bit of energy. Body parts are very popular. Blood, hair, skin, fingernails. Semen.”

“The more disgusting the better,” Slash said.

“When I called Mrs Prendergast, I used an object she had enchanted. Things like that work, too. Sometimes you get away with a piece of clothing, for example if it has soaked up enough sweat.”

“Do vampires sweat?” Duff asked. 

Izzy shrugged. “Probably not. They’re dead, remember?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Axl said. “You won’t get anything like that from Ashwin. He knows how risky it is to have body parts lying around where stupid, suicidal wizards can stumble over them. And as far as I know he hardly ever leaves the lair.”

“No,” Izzy replied. He grinned and Duff knew they were in for the worst. “I will send him something.”

“Send him…,” Axl put down his spoon. “You mean…”

“Yes.” Izzy’s grin broadened, but turned grim at the same time. “I’ll ask him to call me.”

“How?” Duff asked, which gained him a dark stare from Axl. Yes, he knew, encouraging Izzy was on the list of forbidden things within this household, right after ‘don’t touch magical items without gloves’ and ‘don’t leave the goddamned hat on the counter’. 

“Send it by royal mail and include the mailman as a snack. Stop enabling the idiot,” Axl said. 

“He’s my assistant he’s got to be on my side,” Izzy said loftily. 

“Assistant,” Slash muttered. “Right. And you worked real hard all day. You do know that when I’m a cat, I hear like a cat?”

Axl snorted. “As if you needed cat hearing for that.”

Duff blushed. Having sex when under a spell made one forget that one lived in a house with lots of other people. 

“I need an amulet,” Izzy said.

“Not from me,” Axl replied. “You want to kill yourself, you’ll do it without my help.”

“Let me finish.”

“No!” Axl tossed his spoon into the soup that it splashed over half the table. “You always come up with … with these idiotic, suicidal ideas. What for, Izzy? So, somebody is dabbling in necromancy. What is it to you? It’s not Foxhill, you know that. Nobody here would get access to corpses from Heatherfield. Not even the police would blame it on us. Last time, I got it, all right, but this, Izzy? This is bullshit. And don’t tell me it’s in this contract. No way in hell did you sign something that requires you to meet a vampire lord in another dimension.”

His face was flushed, his hair not quite as well brushed as before and his breasts heaved with each frantic breath he took. 

“May I finish?” Izzy asked, not at all angry. If anything, his voice had softened. 

“Go ahead.” Axl sat back and crossed his arms. 

“I need an amulet,” Izzy repeated. “I can bewitch it myself, but I want it to burn out after use. That’s why I need your help. Ashwin gets exactly one chance to call me. Not a hundred. Can you do that?”

Axl looked to the side. 

“Axl!”

“You know I can,” Axl replied. He looked sullen, but the rage was gone. 

“All right. We’ll catch ourselves a vampire.”

“We…,” Duff stuttered. Suddenly he was all on Axl’s side. 

Axl closed his eyes and heaved a breath so deep one might think it would the last one he had at his disposal. 

“I explain to him what I want and send him home. With the amulet.”

“And a few pints of your blood in his stomach,” Axl said. “Or Duff’s.”

“Duff won’t be there.”

“Oh yes, I will!” Duff replied. “Don’t even start,” he said when Izzy opened his mouth in the expected process of ‘no, Duff, this is too dangerous, Duff, I can’t keep an eye on you while catching a vampire, Duff.’. 

“You said it yourself. I’m your assistant. I don’t like this idea at all because, yes, it’s suicidal. But I know you, you’ll run off and do it anyway, so I can spare myself the trouble. But I’ll come along. And you’ll need me.”

“What would I need you for?” Izzy asked, eyes narrowing.

‘A lot of things,’ Duff wanted to say, but that would take it too far for polite dinner table conversation. 

“Bait,” he said. 

After that, everybody was silent.


	9. Astonished

Later that day, when Duff followed Izzy to his room, he asked the question that had been burning on his tongue ever since Axl had brought it up. 

“What is the real reason?” he asked when they had both settled on the bed. “Axl’s right. It’s damned risky.”

Izzy flopped backwards and covered his face with both hands. “Not you too, Duff,” he muttered through his fingers. 

“Give me the reason and I promise, I won’t question it.”

For a moment there was silence, but then Izzy exhaled in a deep, defeated sigh and sat up. 

“If this goes on as is, Giles will be ruined.”

Duff didn’t see why that should be a problem. In fact, it was a very favourable outcome. He would be ruined, he would leave town, end of story. And, yes, he knew he was being petty. Rowland was after his lover, he could go to hell for all he cared. Izzy concerning himself with his personal problems was acid in an open wound. How could he not see that? 

Only yesterday, he had claimed he wouldn’t take the good doctor back if he was served to him on a silver platter – which he was, if everybody would for once be honest – and now he wanted to save his reputation? Why? Out of the goodness of his heart? Not likely. 

Apparently, his silence expressed his feelings well enough because for a change, Izzy kept talking without being prompted.

“I owe him, all right?” His look turned inquiring, even a little pleading, as if gauging Duff’s reaction. “It’s got nothing to do with … you and me or … whatever. I just owe him.”

Duff kept staring. Did Izzy really think this was a satisfying reply? 

“Look it’s … years in the past, Duff. But I was in really bad shape and … he took care of me, all right? I owe him for that.”

Axl sometimes talked about how Izzy had been ‘in really bad shape’ after returning from his outing to the realm of the Fae, and not for the first time, did he wonder what had happened during that stay. Except having perfected his world wandering abilities. It was one of the many things Izzy excluded him from. 

“The stabbing wound?” he asked. It was a hunch, but how often did Izzy manage to get into ‘really bad shape’ and felt the need to hide it?

Izzy hesitated, but then nodded, his eyes begging him to not pry any further. 

Duff could very well imagine how it had all come to pass. Izzy, badly hurt for … unknown reasons. Where had he lived? Probably in a damp, mouldy room in the cheapest guesthouse he had been able to find. Curled up on a lumpy straw mattress, around a wound that would slowly kill him. 

The grumpy old landlady, worried she’d have to deal with a corpse, called the doctor. Who was a bit exasperated at first about having to enter such a dump, but suddenly came more often than was strictly necessary. Pretending he had been in the area anyway, and, no, it was really no bother. Bringing little presents, edible ones of course, saying things like ‘it will only go to waste’. 

Then there was Izzy, recovering, starting to realize that he had been alone for far too long. Maybe Dr Rowland’s presence had been ‘soothing’, too. The doctor was a talker, which meant Izzy could stay silent. He would have liked that. He liked that Axl was a talker, too. Sometimes Duff watched him, how he sat in the library, pretending to read, while in fact listening with this tiny smile on his lips to Axl talking his butt off about the weirdest topics. 

He would grow stronger. Strong enough for a short walk outside. Not on his own, of course, in case it turned out to be too much. But, how convenient, Dr Rowland was not in a hurry and some fresh air would speed up the recovery process. Maybe that had been the allure for Izzy, that for once he had allowed himself to be weak and have somebody else take care of him. 

He should be happy that somebody had been there for Izzy in his hour of need, had saved his life if the scar was anything to go by, but instead, it incensed him further. If Izzy had been so badly hurt that he had to deliver himself into the hands of a stranger, then he had been in a truly frail condition both physically and mentally. Dr Rowland had taken advantage of his weakness, had seduced him and made him fall in love. That couldn’t have been an informed choice. And if somebody asked him – which nobody did – Izzy didn’t owe the good doctor anything. 

Unfortunately, Izzy sometimes had this weird, honourable streak and wouldn’t see it that way. Duff came to a decision. “All right.”

“Yes?” Izzy asked surprised. 

Duff nodded. “If you say you owe him, then you owe him. It’s enough for me.”

“Thank you.” Now he sounded even more surprised. And grateful. Very grateful. So grateful it hurt. 

Duff nodded. 

“So,” Izzy said. “Change of topic.”

Of course. Duff almost laughed. But he had made a decision. He would not pry, but for once he would trust. If Izzy said it didn’t concern him, then he would believe that it was true. And if he said that there was nothing left between himself and his former lover, except this imagined unpaid debt, then he would not worry that anything else might develop. 

Unfortunately, it was more difficult than it should be. Now he wondered if Izzy was simply in denial about his own feelings because he didn’t want to revisit whatever traumatic event had happened around the time, he had encountered his saviour. 

“Equinox is tomorrow. Are you going?”

Duff’s low spirit dropped another couple of feet. So much had happened, he had completely forgotten. 

“I haven’t talked to Sally since … the invitation.” He spat the last word. “Guess balking on her now would be pretty mean. Would spoil her fun, too.”

Izzy didn’t reply. 

“So, I guess I’ll go.”

“Good.” 

“Why?” Duff asked. “Why do you want me to go? Really, Izzy, I don’t get it. What the hell is wrong with you lately?”

“Nothing.” Izzy looked honestly surprised. “I just think …” he shrugged helplessly. “You shouldn’t be so depending only on me and Axl, here. When’s the last time you have visited Lola?”

“She’s found a job,” he said. “In a laundry shop. She hardly ever gets time off.” He missed her, but he was also happy that she was off the streets. The job sucked, but a streetgirl couldn’t be picky. 

“Still. You should have … alternatives.”

“I should have what?” Now Duff was the one who was being surprised. Why would he want an alternative when he had exactly what he had hoped for? “Izzy? Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Izzy looked at him all attentively and ... clueless. 

“When I kissed you. That first time.”

“You mean when you assaulted me?”

“Kissed,” Duff corrected. It had been a kiss. Izzy’s reaction to it, now, that had been an assault. “Why do you think I did it? Honest answer, please.”

Izzy scratched his cheek. “I suppose I haven’t been as good at hiding my … ehm … attraction as I thought I had been. And you somehow picked up on it. You’re pretty good at picking up on emotions. And you might have thought that you didn’t have an alternative but to … do it.”

Duff sighed. So that was behind all this bullshit. It was another blow, but one he should have expected. 

“Do you think so low of me? Once a whore, always a whore?”

“I… no! Duff, no!” 

“Then what?”

Izzy squirmed, but for once Duff was not ready to let him off the hook. 

“You didn’t have many …”

“Don’t say alternatives,” Duff growled. “Really, say alternative one more time and I’ll break bones. Yours.”

“… choices.”

That was hardly any better. 

“And I know that Axl was telling you bullshit and that you should … should …”

“Should what, Izzy?” Did he really want to hear it? Yes, apparently, because he was desperate for punishment. 

Izzy picked at his sleeve, tried to pull it over his hand, only to have it slip up higher than it had been before. 

“Axl can be very persuasive,” he said. “And you kind of … admire him, so if he tells you that you should …should…” He started pulling again. 

“…jump into bed with you? That I would just do it?”

“No, of course not.” Izzy looked up. “I know that you like me. Or that you’re maybe a little bit in love with me.”

“Thank God!” But what did he mean by ‘little bit’? 

“But maybe not …that much. Goddammit, Duff.” He let go off his sleeve cuffs, and they slipped upwards to where they were supposed to be. “You can do better and it would be selfish if I tried to hold you back.”

“Huh?” This was getting more bizarre by the minute. 

“Oh, come on! You know how much I’m making. If Axl wasn’t feeding me, I’d be starving.”

“And that should bother me why exactly? You’re not my … my … in case you haven’t noticed, Izzy, it’s not likely that I’ll suddenly get pregnant and burden you with providing for a dozen children. But as it seems to be important to you: you only suck at marketing your value. If you allowed me to place some advertisements …”

“I’m a drunk and an opium addict,” Izzy interrupted him. His voice was getting belligerent, as if he was defending instead of degrading himself. 

“You’re trying very hard not to and you’re doing great. You haven’t touched a pipe since last summer.”

“Half of what I do consists of slaying slimy, smelly beings.”

“That’s also true for anybody working in the sea food industry and they still find people who love them,” he said, determined not to beg down.

Now Izzy was glaring in addition to snapping. It would be funny if it wasn’t so sad. And the saddest thing was that Duff hadn’t been aware of any of this and instead rolled around in his personal self-pity. What kind of lover was he? No wonder Izzy was pining after Dr Rowland who had probably been conscientious in taking care of all his needs, and oh so attentive in making him feel loved and cherished instead of … exploited. 

“For God’s sake, Duff, don’t you get it?” Izzy threw his arms up in the air. “I’m not exactly a catch.”

“Unlike me,” Duff said. “Homeless, Irish immigrant who sucked dick for a living.” 

“That wasn’t your fault. But given how you were treated it wouldn’t surprise me if maybe you thought you kind of had to …”

“Had to what, Izzy? Finish one bloody sentence, please.”

“That you had to secure your position here. Happy now?”

Duff shifted towards the corner of the bed. He leant against the headboard, wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. 

“You think I’m a whore.”

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. That came as a surprise. And not a nice one. It was true, of course, but somehow, he liked to pretend it was all in the past and didn’t matter anymore.

“No!” Izzy turned into his direction. One of his hands found its way around Duff’s ankle where it squeezed softly. “Never. All I’m saying is, I wanted to make sure you have …”

“Alternatives.” Duff mumbled into his arm. “I know. Then why were you so, so, grumpy after you offered me … alternatives?”

Izzy pursed his lips. “Because I was worried you might take them,” he finally said. 

“You know what, Izzy?” Duff raised his head. “You are so off the mark it’s astounding for somebody who hits bullseye with every goddamn firearm on the planet. I had no idea whether you were returning my feelings or not. I was scared you might cast me out on the street if you got as much as a whiff that I was … was … lusting after your bloody perfect ass. I mean, there were all these women after you. Like … like Bessie Harris.” 

“And Paulette Butterfield.” Izzy pulled a face. 

“Paulette Butterfield?” Duff asked, completely taken off guard by the sudden turn of events. “I thought she was after Axl?”

“What? No! This shit is going on for … ugh … ten years? Something like that. Suzette, too, before she married. And you really shouldn’t encourage her!”

“I didn’t bloody encourage anybody!” Duff shouted. “You know who encouraged somebody he shouldn’t be encouraging? You! You encouraged Sally to think stuff she shouldn’t be thinking. Doesn’t matter. Don’t try to distract me. The topic is that you think I’m sleeping with you for … for … financial gain, but…” Suddenly he had an idea. “I will forgive you if you help me out with something.”

“Sure.” Izzy looked hopeful, and as a consequence, Duff took a deep breath and purposefully hardened his heart. It was necessary, or he wouldn’t be able to pull through. 

“My mother and sister,” he said. “They’re coming for a visit next week.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t told them about us.”

“No, of course not.” Izzy smiled relieved, and Duff truly wished this was all he had to confess. 

“I didn’t tell them that you were a wizard either.”

Now Izzy’s face fell, but he nodded. “I understand,” he said. “That’s … that’s all right, I suppose. We can just … not tell and I’ll try to not do anything magical by accident. I can also take off the sign if that helps.”

“And I told them that you and Axl were married.”

“What?” Izzy screamed. His voice was so high it almost cracked. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“My Mum is catholic!” Duff yelled back. Didn’t that explain everything there was to explain? “As catholic as catholic can get! You think I have stupid ideas about magical people? Wait until my Mum shows up on your doorstep. I didn’t want her to run to Father O’Brian to have him write a letter to the local priest and have me exorcised. Because that would have happened! I wanted her to think that I had found a job in a nice, respectable household. Not a place where people are … are doing what we are doing all the time. She wouldn’t understand!”

“What’s that to do with me and Axl being married?” Izzy’s eyes were blazing. This wasn’t going the way he had hoped. 

“It seemed … logical.” Duff collected all his resolution. If he now admitted that what he had done was heartless, ungrateful and absolutely callous, then he would never be able to press Izzy into helping him out. “A man and a woman can’t live in the same house with only a cat and a… a… shop assistant. Not without being married. It is impossible. Did I mention that my Mum is catholic?” 

Izzy was sucking in breath, but he didn’t yell anymore. 

“You owe me,” Duff reminded him. “For thinking I’m a whore.”

“Duff,” Izzy said. It came out as a squeak. “What do you even want me to do here?”

Duff took another deep breath. “It’s only one day. Two at best. Please. Convince Axl to play along. And Slash to stay a cat.” The latter would be easy. Slash was always a cat on the rare occasion that visitors were around. 

Izzy’s eyes widened. “I can’t. Axl will turn me into a frog.”

“That’s not possible,” Duff said, determined to not let his hardened heart be softened by Izzy’s begging eyes. But, goddamned, did he have pretty eyes. And never had he seen them so utterly shocked and ... betrayed. “But even if, I promise, I’ll love you anyway. I’ll built you a nice, moist, swampy box to live in and every day I will catch flies for you.”

At least Dr Rowland wouldn’t be interested in Izzy the frog. The one good thing coming out of this mess. He would get to keep Izzy the frog all to himself. 

“That’s blackmail.”

“A little bit,” Duff admitted. “But ….”

“Yes, yes.” Izzy covered his face with both hands. Did he sob? It sounded as if he was sobbing. Duff pried his hands away and was relieved that there weren’t any tears. Hardened heart or not, if he had made Izzy cry, he wouldn’t forgive himself for the rest of his life. 

“There can’t be a repeat,” Izzy said. 

Duff shook his head. “Won’t. Promise.”

“If they ever decide to visit again, you’ll have to come clean.”

Duff nodded. “Or I’ll simply fake my death. That will be the only alternative, I’m afraid, ‘cause, really Izzy, you don’t know my Mum.”

“I mean it, Duff,” Izzy’s expression bordered on thunderous. “This … this is … How do you even want to play it?”

“It won’t be a big deal.” He had thought everything through, he only needed to convince everybody to play along. “They’ll stay for one night. In an inn, somewhere. I don’t have an address, but I doubt it will be Foxhill. They will want to see where I live or I would try to meet them elsewhere. You can be all mean and grumpy and say I’m not allowed to have visitors. I drag them out of the house and show them the town.”

“And that’s going to reassure them?”

“Probably not,” Duff admitted. “But it wouldn’t be uncommon either. I’m your servant, I can’t expect you to entertain my visitors.”

“What if Axl is male that day?”

“Then Mrs Rose is out for the day, but, hey, Mum, meet her twin brother.”

Izzy looked dubious, but he ceased all protest. 

“I’ll talk with Axl,” he said. 

“Thank you.” 

Duff wrapped his arms around him and kissed him. 

“The things I do for you.” Izzy’s voice had softened and after a moment of pretend stubbornness, he kissed back. 

“See?” Duff whispered against his lips. “And that’s why all you said is total bullshit. Nobody would play along. Just you. Because you love me. You are quite the catch, Izzy. And I’m the one who caught you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. This is more or less the end of the first part of this novel. I had planned to write a new chapter for every one I have posted, but somehow I had to get the last few out of the way before starting into the new section. So there might be a short break now as I have to sort out the second half.


	10. Attacked

Equinox was on a Thursday this year, but as always, the accompanying drinking binge was scheduled for the following Friday, would carry on through Saturday morning and have everybody passed out until Sunday evening. Duff should have picked up Sally about five minutes ago, but instead he was sorting through his clothes. His options were far from plentiful, but he still wanted to make the right choice. 

On the one hand, he wanted to look good. If things went as planned, he would meet people, make new friends and therefore he was keen to leave a good impression. On the other hand, he did not want Sally to get strange ideas. In the end he settled for one step up from his everyday outfit, but not so much that she might think he was out to impress her. 

Sally waited outside her parent’s house, dressed in her new dress, with her hair neatly arranged for a change. Usually she piled it up somehow on the top her head and called it a fashion statement. 

“I thought you were going to stand me up,” she said. 

Duff shook his head. “Sorry, I got caught up. But I’m not really late, am I?”

“Half an hour.” Sally took his hand. “Come on or we’ll be the only sober people among lots of drunks.”

To his surprise, Duff realized that he started to look forward to the celebration. He liked a good festival and it was true, unless it was for work he hardly ever got out of the house. If it wasn’t for Sally, Duff would have stayed home to. Or Izzy would have gone to do him a favour, would have pretended to enjoy it and been miserable all the time. Axl opted for home, too. Ever since he had detected his new ability, he was withdrawn and melancholic. 

It was a relief that Izzy didn’t plan to get rid of him, but unfortunately didn’t help him to solve his other problem: how to make sure that Sally wouldn’t interpret anything into this … this … he refused to call it a date … that wasn’t there? Was he leading her on? 

“By the way,” she said, when he had barely joined into her chatter, “you don’t have to worry. I know you’re taken.”

“I … what?” Duff stuttered. 

Sally grinned. “It’s why I asked you. I’m not giving Robert Wilkins the satisfaction to see me go on my own.”

“Who is Robert Wilkins?” Duff asked, flabbergasted. 

“The stupid twat I asked first. And he said ‘no’. And then he asked out Carrie Hammond. I mean, Carrie Hammond, can you imagine?”

Duff couldn’t imagine because he had no idea who Carrie Hammond was either. But Sally’s outrage had shoved twenty pounds of rubble of his heart. He was here to make Robert Wilkins jealous. He chuckled and squeezed her hand a little tighter. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” Sally cast him a worried look. “I guess I should have run this past you first, but Mr Stradlin was there, and, really, he scares the hell out of me.”

“He what?” Duff asked. “You are always baiting him.”

“I have to.” Sally tucked a strand that had come loose out of her braids behind her ear. “I can’t let him know, right? But, really, Duff, I have no idea how you manage.”

“To work with him?” 

Sally rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. And I don’t think I’m the only one who figured it out.” Her voice obtained a conspiratorial timbre. “We just pretend we don’t, you know.”

Duff wondered if this was the moment where he should start to hyperventilate. 

“Know what?” he tried nevertheless. 

“Give it up, Duff.” Sally gave him a playful shove. “I’ve known Izzy Stradlin since I was a little girl. He never looks at anybody the way he looks at you. And there’s always been those rumours about him. Bessie always claimed they were not true and I was too young to remember, but before he left, he had had lots of girls, and that he had other reasons for not courting anymore. Really, it broke poor Bessie’s heart when you came along to snatch him away.”

“I didn’t … didn’t …,” Duff stuttered, but Sally only laughed.

There was no time to elaborate what he didn’t do because they had reached the meadow. He spotted the bonfire in the distance, bright orange in the darkness, sparks flying towards the black sky. Children screamed and tossed sticks intot he flames. A band played, loud and not half bad. Duff recognized the melody from somewhere. After all the rain, the ground was waterlogged and countless feet had turned the sod into mud. 

Sally lifted her skirts a bit and wrinkled her nose when her pretty shoes lost their shine in the first puddle. 

“Guess I don’t even have to try, huh?” she said. 

Duff shook his head. The legs of his trousers were soaking up mud like filter paper. 

Sally introduced him to a group of her friends. He knew a few of them fleetingly. Jonah was the youngest of the Milligan nixies. Then there was Ella Graves, Sally’s best friend, who had married a year ago and was expecting her firstborn. It wasn’t obvious yet, he only knew because she bought copious amounts of ginger root and had once puked right in the middle of the shop. Duff had been tasked with cleaning up and during her next visit, she had brought him a batch of ginger biscuits. 

Her husband Lucas, still very much in love, was new to the group, too and made it easier for Duff to not feel like an outsider. 

Sarah Dunn, tall with big eyes and thick, white-blond hair, told Duff after a few beers that she shifted into an owl and, yes, was able to fly, but that it burned a lot of energy and therefore she didn’t do it that often. There were lots of shapeshifters in Foxhill, Duff had found out. It was by far the most common denomination, but most of them seemed to prefer their human form. Slash was a bit odd in that way. 

Robert Wilkins found his way into their direction, accompanied by the impossible Carrie Hammond, and Duff allowed Sally to hold on to his arm and whispered bullshit into her ear to make her laugh. Robert Wilkins reciprocated by making Carrie Hammond laugh and it was all about as ridiculous as it could be. But Duff had had a few beers, too, and that was enough to turn the most immature behavoiur in something sensible. 

For the first time in ages, he felt indeed …carefree.It hurt a bit that it should only be possible without Izzy, but he had to admit: Izzy would hate to be here, talking to people he barely knew and laughing about unfunny jokes, just because everything was suddenly worth laughing about. 

He danced with Sally which ended in ungraceful slipping around in the mud and gave her copious opportunity to cling extra tight to him whenever Robert Wilkins paraded Carrie Hammond past them. They ate candied fruit and drank more beer, and for a change all his worries and jealousy faded into the back. 

His cheerful spirit got a bit of a damper when they ran into a group of men between maybe sixteen and thirty, all of them tall and muscled and strutting around as if they owned the place. 

“Ugh,” Sally whispered. “That’s the pack.”

“The what?” Duff asked. 

“Lycanthropes,” she whispered. “The whole bunch of them. George Pugh is their leader.” She pointed toward a man a few years older than Duff. “They live on a farm, outside Whittlingsfield, to avoid the residency laws. Which is a good choice, if you ask me, cause, really, they had quite a few run-ins with your boss.”

“You mean, they are werewolves?” Duff asked. 

Sally shook her head. “Lycanthropes. Don’t you know the difference?”

Now Duff shook his head. 

“They behave somehow like wolves, but they don’t shift. Still, don’t underestimate them, they are fast and strong and pretty … ferocious. And they like to make trouble.” 

She took his arm and was about to pull him away, but it was too late. Suddenly the whole group turned their eyes on them. 

“Shit,” Sally said through barely opened lips. “No weakness now. They can smell it.”

That was reassuring, Duff thought, but he didn’t have time to soil his second-best trousers in fear because the pack was heading into their direction. 

“Sally,” Pugh said without looking at her. His eyes were firmly on Duff. “Who’s that? And what are you doing with a blank?”

“A what?” Duff asked. 

Sally pinched his arm. 

“A blank,” Pugh repeated, speaking slowly as if to an imbecile. “Are you stupid or just deaf?”

“No idea,” Duff replied. “But as somebody who seems to speak from experiences, what would you say?”

Pugh knitted his thick brows together. He was not much smaller than Duff, but his built made him about twice his size. Sally pinched him again. Picking a fight would not be wise, but he had had a few and if there was one thing he had never liked, then it was a bully. 

“This is a private event,” he said. 

“Really?” Duff looked around, letting his eyes linger on the countless people, the vendor stands, the burning bonfire in the distance. “Doesn’t look overly private to me.”

“Duff lives in Foxhill,” Sally said. “He’s got all the right to be here.”

“Why does he … oh.” Now Pugh looked more pissed than before. Great. “The wizard.” He said that word in a way that didn’t speak of fond memories. “I’ve heard about you.”

“Yes, the wizard,” Sally said. “Remember what he did last time you pissed him off?”

Duff wished she would shut up. If Pugh was on his own, then threatening him with Izzy’s personal brand of retribution might work, but in front of his pack? He could not afford to show weakness. 

Out of the wink of his eye, Duff saw more people closing in. Jonah and Sarah. Robert and Carrie. They weren’t the only ones. A good, heavy fight hung in the air and people started to gather around them. 

Remembering Sally’s warning that the lycanthropes could smell his fear, Duff tried to keep his breathing even and his heartbeat from speeding up. It wasn’t working. Cold sweat formed at the base of his neck. How bad would this be? Was he up against Pugh or was half of Foxhill out to show the non-magical intruder what they thought about him?

“Look, George,” Sally said. “I donned my new dress. I did extra shifts at the bakery to pay for it.”

Pugh gave her a confused look while she nestled the glamour amulet out of her collar and took it off. 

“Can you hold this for me?” She pressed it into Duff’s hand. “My Mum kills me if I lose it and she has to buy a new one. Again. They cost a fortune.”

The moment the glamour was gone, her body changed. It didn’t happen the way Kate shifted into a werewolf, but as if a veil had been pulled off. One blink and her nails had turned into three inches long talons, her nose, longer than before, bowed like a beak and dark grey feathers stood up in a glorious comb on top of her head. 

“I have to beef with you, Sally,” George said. “Just with him.” He pointed at Duff. 

“Yes, but I borrowed him from the wizard. And you know him, if I don’t return his assistant in pristine condition, he gets unhappy He’s always so particular with his stuff. And we live only down the road from him, so I’d rather not risk it.”

“Sally,” Duff whispered. No way in hell would he stand by and let a girl fight for him.

“Shut up, Duff,” she said. “And stay out of this. Now, George, if you want trouble, how about you pick somebody in your own league?”

She flexed her fingers and the talons, black and bowed to half circles, clacked against each other. Axl had once said that the members Harris family were able to take care of themselves, but to see Sally, petite, lively, girlish Sally who had been worried about the state of her shoes and her dress half an hours ago, turn into this dangerous, predatory creature, blew his mind. 

And Sally wasn’t the only one. Duff had always been wondering about what people were hiding behind Axl’s glamour amulets. Now he saw. There was no lack of horns, tails, claws or beaks, and Sally wasn’t the fiercest looking one by far. 

Pugh’s gang appeared suddenly a lot less happy to make trouble, but Duff knew how things like this worked. There was common sense and there was an image one had to uphold. And before he could warn Sally, George Pugh lurched at him. He was amazingly fast, and while Duff did manage to make a step to the side, the fist that hit his jaw still had a lot more impact than any non-magical man would have mustered. His head whipped to the side, the rest of his body followed and before he had a chance to react, he found himself on his ass. His eyes watered, his ears were ringing and Pugh was coming after him. 

This was what everybody had been waiting for. The roar that went through the crowd was deafening. Vendor stands toppled over, drinks spilled, snacks got trampled into the ground. The merchants hurried to rescue whatever they could, but it was hopeless. Mothers dragged children away, wives tried to keep husbands from joining in. Somewhere in the distance the band played on, the music fluttering in contorted notes over the uproar. 

Duff scrambled to his feet and while his pride was smarting worse than his jaw, he scurried backwards to get out of the fray. Hair and feathers flew through the air. Two steps away a man spit blood and what looked like an inhumanly long tooth into the mud, only to storm right back into the melee. 

Sally had been right. This was above his paygrade.

On the other hand, just standing back and watching was unacceptable. Lycanthropes weren’t the only ones who had a certain pride to uphold. He looked around for something to use as a weapon and had just secured the leg off a broken vendor table, when he spotted another problem: Ella Graves, Sally’s best friend, stood about fifty yards away where the meadow bordered onto the first row of houses. 

Unlike everybody else, she had turned her back onto the clamour and talked to a couple, a man and a woman Duff didn’t know. They were both tall and stunning in an otherworldly sense, with pale skin and dark hair, and he knew exactly where he had seen somebody like that before. 

His first instinct was to scream for help, but he had no idea what would happen then. Were those two the only vampires? Were there more, hidden between the houses? What if a fight started right away? There were children around, people who were not as well armed as Sally or a pack of lycanthropes. Leave alone that he would have a hard time making himself heard within all the noise and yelling and screaming. 

Izzy wouldn’t draw all of Foxhill into trouble, he decided. And he was Izzy’s assistant. Solving the situation was his job and nobody else’s. Here he had the chance to prove his worth and catch two birds with one stone. If Izzy was proud of him, he would surely forget his longings for his former lover. Yes, Izzy would realize that he was somebody he could truly count on to have his back. 

Resolutely he quenched the little voice that reminded him that Izzy was a wizard who tended to drag a shotgun around, and knew how to solve problems like these, while he was running blindly into it with just a table leg as a weapon. His need to prove himself extinguished every ounce of self-perseverance he might ever have had and while he had a niggling that this may be a bit over the top, there was no time to think further about it. The woman tugged at Ella’s hand, and she followed the couple into the shadow of the alley. 

Duff hid the table leg under his shirt, stuffed Sally’s amulet into his pocket and was just about to run after them, when his fingers stumbled across something hard. Confused he pulled it out and realized that it was the calling crystal Izzy had given him in Horley. He crushed it between his fingers, but didn’t have much hope. Izzy would have to realize that the counter piece had turned black and unless he was keeping it somewhere in his line of vision, that was unlikely. At least if he noticed, he should be able to track him down by using a few hairs from his brush. 

Unfortunately, there was no time to lose. He ran after the vampires and their prey. 

“Ella!” he exclaimed when he reached the group, slowing down to a walk. “Lucas has been searching for you everywhere. Hey guys,” he waved. “Sorry to disturb you, but Ella’s husband is looking for her.”

Slowly he took her arm and pulled her into his direction, but the woman refused to let go. Ella gave him a confused look, as if she didn’t remember who he was. 

“Lucas needs you,” he repeated, hoping the name would penetrate her befuddled mind. 

At that moment, the man reached out and touched his face. Duff quickly pulled away and broke contact, but before he managed, something grazed his mind, something cold and dark and petrifying. It told him to stand still, threatened him with unspeakable horrors if he didn’t obey. His eyes closed and his hand slipped away from Ella’s arm. 

“Come on!” a voice told him while cold fingers curled around his writs. “Move!”

His legs made the first step without his consent, then the second, his will crumbling under the pressure of fear. Dimly he remembered what Izzy had told him that in the end the solution to resisting a spell was always the same: don’t give in to the feeling, no matter how overwhelming it might be. Collect all of your willpower and direct it against the intrusion. 

Duff forced his eyes open and managed a few steps backwards. The vampire had only held on loosely to his wrist, not expecting any resistance, and the moment he lost touch, the fear subsided. Reminders lingered at the corners of his mind and made his hands shake, but now he could draw a clear frame around it and separate it from the rest of his conscience. 

It was different from the real fear he felt on top of it, the logical dread that stemmed from being confronted with two vampires. It was existential, life threatening without giving him a reason. If asked what he was afraid of, he would not have been able to describe it. It was just there, pure and primal, gnawing away at his sense of self, telling him that he stood no chance to win, that he could as well give up and spare himself the tribulations that would come with struggling. 

He took the table leg out from under his shirt, reached for Ella’s arm and pulled her away. The moment she lost contact with the vampire, her eyes focussed. She recovered fast, jumped backwards and out of reach. 

“Really?” the man said, sounding more annoyed than threatened. 

“Really,” Duff said. “Run. Get help.”

Ella hesitated, but they didn’t have time. He pushed her into the desired direction, back towards the meadow, and then he did know her denomination. She turned into a squirrel and was off.

“That was my dinner,” the woman said. They were both glaring at him. 

Duff wasn’t stupid enough to try and fight. In fact, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking when he had marched all on his own into the situation? There was no time to berate himself for his stupidty, but in case he survived this, he had some serious navel-gazing to do.

He dropped the table leg, turned tail and ran, took the first alley to the right, and scooted around the next corner. He may not have the speed of a vampire, but he had one advantage: he knew Foxhill to the last pothole.

“Know your territory!” was Izzy’s mantra and running after him meant he was familiar with most of the tiny alleys that crawled up and down the hill, sneaked around corners, ended in backyards and dead ends, only to offer a slip-through where nobody expected one. 

The route he chose took them all into account. He wouldn’t make it on an open stretch of country road, but here, in the labyrinth that was Foxhill, he managed to find cover every few yards, be it behind a corner, by crossing people’s backyards or making a mad dash through somebody’s cabbage patch.

He ran around a crumbly old house and right into a fenced off yard. To his luck, the gate was open and chicken flew up as he dashed through. The rooster screeched angrily, but Duff was already past and in a flurry of claws and feathers the enraged bird directed his attack at the next coming victim. 

From experience Duff knew that this yard was under the control of an especially fierce dog. The animal, an undefined crossbreed between a sheep dog and some otherworldly monstrosity, rose to the occasion to protect his chickens. Dogs and vampires, he had learned from Hector, didn’t go well with each, other and while he yearned for Hector’s assistance, this specimen, although not a match in size, was definitely one in ferocity. 

Under normal conditions the dog would never have allowed him to pass, but this time he made an exception and honed in on those he considered worthier of his wrath. He heard barking and snapping joining in with the rooster’s screeches.

None of his tricks helped him to get rid of his pursuers for good, but it kept them from gaining in on him. The wall at the end of the yard was low enough to take with one quick jump and behind it he had the choice between three different directions. He picked the one that gained him cover first, leading him around a corner and right towards a waste water ditch. Usually no more than a rivulet it had swollen up into a torrent after all the rain, and was now too broad to jump over. 

Running after Izzy also meant he had said good-bye to any squeamishness he may have once harboured. Without the slightest hesitation he waded through. Hopefully the vampires were too worried about their pretty clothes to follow. 

But no such luck. He had made it out on the other side and through a yard full of junk, when he heard the patter of feet closing in. Duff calculated his options. He was in good shape, but eventually he would have to slow down. He had to make it home before his strength left him. The meadow was the highest point of Foxhilll, and so at each crossing he took the way one that led downhill. 

The next yard was occupied by two pigs, the ground covered in ankle deep mud. He almost turned back, but had no time. And then he noticed his mistake. There was no way out. Frantically he looked around. A shed leant against the neighbouring house, and out of options to run, he needed something to fight. He tore the door open and hoped to find anything that would make a suitable weapon. 

“Hey, you!” somebody called and Duff spotted a man in an open backdoor. 

He didn’t hesitate. The pigs were of the friendly variety, and didn’t bother him as he crossed their confinement. Duff grabbed the man by his arm, pulled him into the house, slammed the door shut and pushed the bolt into place. 

“Salt!” he yelled. “I need salt!”

In every normal household in Whittlingsfield the answer would have been a hit with the coal shovel, but this was Foxhill. Salt lines in front of entries were a given. Axl even had them incorporated under the floorboards and into the mortar around the windows of the house, so they wouldn’t have to renew them all the time. 

The man pointed at a paper bag in a corner and Duff reapplied the line he had destroyed by coming in. 

“What’s after you, kid,” the man peered out of the window. 

“Vampires,” Duff said. “Two.” 

The man clucked. “Won’t make it inside, don’t worry. Ah, there they are. They better not try to drain my pigs.”

Duff peeked out, to and saw both of them standing between the animals. They looked around, clearly not sure where to go. Then the woman pointed towards a shed. The door stood still open. 

“What do we do now?” he asked, while thinking that as wizard assistant, he should be the one to answer this question. 

The man shrugged. “Wait, I suppose. Until the sun rises. Do you want a cup of tea? And, sorry kid, but you’re reeking.”

Duff looked down his soiled trousers and sighed. 

“How much salt do you have?” he asked. 

“I have another bag. Why?”

Duff squinted out again. “There is only that one entrance to the yard, right? Else they would have to pass over somebody’s threshold? And people keep their salt lines up to date?”

“Yes, kid, but you don’t want to…”

Duff grabbed the bag and before the man could stop him, he was out of the front door. He had no idea how much time it would take to seal off the entrance or even over how much of a distance a vampire would hear his heart beat or smell his blood or whatever they did to locate their prey, but he would not hide in a house and wait for help that might not come. 

He sneaked around the front. The entry to the yard was about ten feet wide. The vampires were nowhere to be seen. Quickly Duff started pouring out salt. He was almost done, when he spotted the woman come out of the shed. 

“There!” she yelled, but it was too late. 

Duff stepped back and admired the beautiful white line. 

The vampires hadn’t noticed yet. They jumped up and stormed into his direction at such speed that Duff worried the salt line wouldn’t keep. But just before they reached the barrier, both of them stopped. 

“You bastard,” the man said. “I’ll get you for this.”

“Maybe,” Duff replied. “But not now.”

He pushed his hand into his pocket and felt for the remainders of the broken crystal. 

‘Hurry up, Izzy, please,’ he begged silently. How long would he be able to keep a pair of vampires in a backyard with … pigs? He hadn’t thought about the pigs. The little gate to their enclosure stood wide and open, and they decided to go for a stroll. Towards the line. Curiously they came over and sniffed at the salt. 

Quickly he shooed them away, but he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. The man grinned, the woman laughed, and then they turned the pigs back towards the barrier. Duff did his best to keep them away and renew the line at the same time, but the salt in his bag was diminishing faster than he liked. 

Why were the damned pigs so fond of salt? Not that they didn’t have to eat it, trampling it was enough and that’s what they kept doing faster than he could repair the damage. 

He could, of course, hide inside the house again, but what then? There would still be two vampires loose at a day where children were allowed to play in the dark, people walked home late and half the population of Foxhill was drunk out of their minds. 

Unfortunately, he was running out of options. The question was, should he wait until the line inevitably broke and hope he would be faster when he escaped for the door, or should he retreat now, when it would gain him about two seconds of a head start? 

He was just about to opt for the latter, when he heard steps behind himself. The man was coming to his help!

“I need more salt!” he said, pouring out what was left and tossing the bag right after it. “Get me the other bag!”

“I see that.”

Duff turned around. “Izzy!”

“One step ahead again, huh? Here we wanted to catch ourselves a vampire, and you manage to hunt down two.” He grinned, looking at the same time relieved and exasperated. 

“I … was trying to run away from them, actually,” he said. 

“Which is the wiser solution.” Izzy pushed his hat back. “Nice specimen you’ve got there. Just what we need.”

The pigs had destroyed the salt line for good, and were looking for more entertainment in the form of a midnight stroll through Foxhill, but the vampires didn’t move. 

Izzy took the shotgun off his shoulder. 

“It’s a pity I don’t have the wood tipped bullets,” he said. “But Axl enchants my shells with a spell that will take out most creatures for at least a few seconds. And I don’t think we’ll need more.” 

He levelled the gun and the vampires, seeing their options crash, attacked. Izzy pulled the trigger and the man went down. The woman was faster. She didn’t take any chances, left the fight to her companion and fled. 

“Let her!” Izzy said, when Duff’s first instinct was to go after her. “She’ll run home to daddy as fast as she can.”

He squatted down next to the man, rolled him onto his belly and fastened manacles around his wrists. Duff bet a month’s income that they were enchanted, too. Then he pulled a knife and carved a sigil into the back of his neck. 

“Come on,” Izzy readjusted the shoulder strap of the shotgun. “Let’s get him home.”

They pulled the vampire to his feet. He was slowly coming to again, groaning and whimpering. 

“I know, I know,” Izzy patted his cheek. “Hurts like hell, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the pain soon enough.”

When they made it out of the yard, the owner of the house stood in his doorway. 

“Stradlin,” he said. “Sending the new boy out all on his own already?”

“He did well, didn’t he?” Izzy stopped long enough to adjust his hold on the vampire. 

“He did! But tell him to wash now and then. The other one’s gone?”

“Unfortunately. But I don’t think there will be more trouble.”

“Your pigs escaped,” Duff said. “They went that way.” He pointed up the road. 

“Aye.” The man scratched his head. “I know where they are. They are very fond of Eunice’s cabbage. I’ll better go and get them. Eunice is a bit particular with her cabbage.”

Duff felt a pang of guilt when he thought about the cabbage patch he had trampled on his flight. If he was lucky, it would be blamed on the pigs. And it was still early spring. Hopefully Eunice would be able to replant and harvest cabbage this year.


	11. Distressed

Dragging a vampire through Foxhill was more exhausting than it looked from the outside. Whatever Izzy had done to him might keep him from fighting, but that didn’t mean he was inclined to cooperate. He was a hundred and fifty pounds of dead weight that occasionally started to struggle and make them lose their footing in the mud between the cobbled patches Foxhill called streets. Duff was reminded of the day when he and Axl had dragged Izzy home from the opium den, and he wondered if there was a wheelbarrow they could borrow. 

After less than half a mile, Izzy lost his patience. He let go of his part of vampire, kicked him from behind in the knees, and Duff, surprised by the move, let go, too. The man fell face forward into the mud. Izzy was over him in an instant, pressing his knee into the small of his back until he whimpered. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled hard enough to make mere mortal’s neck snap. Maybe it wouldn’t kill a vampire, but it had to be painful. Disturbed he watched as Izzy twisted his head even further. 

“Izzy,” he whispered, but Izzy didn’t react. 

“Listen, you piece of scum,” he hissed. “This shit show is going down, whether you do or don’t cooperate. Nothing you can do to stop what’s coming for you. Only choice you have is: do you want me to start on your carcass of a body when I’m extra angry or while I feel a minimum of charity? And don’t harbour any illusions, you will beg for my mercy.”

“Bugger yourself!” the vampire spat, but then he groaned as Izzy slammed his face into the ground. 

The crack of bones made Duff flinch. 

“Izzy,” he repeated louder this time. “Is this necessary?”

Izzy gave him an irritated look. 

“Necessary?” he asked, but his eyes were back on the man who was spitting out blood. “This is only the beginning.”

After that, the vampire stopped his resistance. He walked, more or less, between them, and they made it to Stakesby Road without further delay. 

“Axl!” Izzy yelled when they stopped at the door. “Duff? Hold him for a moment.”

He pulled his knife. The vampire flinched, but all Izzy did was kneel down and jemmy up the floorboard between the doorposts. Then he destroyed the salt line underneath, and they were able to get their prey inside. 

“Axl!”

“Already here.” Duff hadn’t heard him coming, but Axl, lovely with his red hair over a yellow dress, stood in the doorway at the back of the shop. “Didn’t know you would be bringing visitors.”

“Yes, was a bit unplanned.” Izzy grabbed the man by the collar of his coat and pulled him forward. “We need to get the guestroom ready.”

Axl didn’t move. “Might be a bit dusty. We haven’t used it in years.” 

“Oh, he won’t mind, will you?” Izzy shook his victim. “By sunrise, he will be grateful for a roof over his head. If I still feel he deserves one. Maybe get the cage in the yard ready, too.”

What cage? Duff wondered. Did he mean the chicken coop? And Sunrise? How long were they going to keep him? Hadn’t the plan been to send him home with the amulet? 

“Good to know. I’d hate to come across as a bad host.” Axl turned his back on them as if it was the most normal occurrence in their life to find suitable lodgings for a vampire.

Duff followed. He wished somebody explained to him what was going on but neither Axl nor Izzy showed interest in bringing him up to speed. Guestroom? Sure, maybe the attic could be called a guestroom again since he slept most of the time in Izzy’s bed. But all his belonging were up there, and he didn’t know how he felt about a vampire in what he considered his personal space. 

He was therefore relieved, when they didn’t take the staircase, but headed for the storage room at the back of the house. 

“Lend a hand?” Axl asked, and then they pushed crates out of the way. “This cupboard here, too.” 

Duff pressed his back against one end and Axl pulled at the other. The cupboard held boxes full of merchandise and it clattered precariously as they moved it to the side. Hopefully, nothing toxic was spilling. 

A trapdoor appeared in the floor. Axl pulled it open and without hesitation, Izzy pushed the vampire into the dark hole. He yelled on his way down and Duff flinched at the thud he made when he landed at the bottom.

“Izzy!” Duff said. “Really, do you have to be so…”

But Izzy didn’t pay him any attention. 

“Is the amulet ready?” he asked. 

“No,” Axl replied. “I had no idea you would speed things up like this.” He pointed at the hole from where some muttered curses could be heard. 

“Me?” Izzy grinned, but it didn’t look amused. “Blame it on Duff. He can’t even take out a girl without running into trouble. Can you get started on it? I’d rather not keep the bastard overnight.”

Axl nodded. Then he grabbed a handful of Izzy’s hair and pulled. Izzy yelped, but Axl only held up a couple of dark hairs. “Give me an hour or so.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Izzy replied. The grin was back. Nastier this time. “You will have a lot more than that.”

“What…,” Duff started, but Izzy was determined to not let him finish anything tonight. 

“Stay with Axl,” he said. 

“But…,”

“I have no time for that Duff. Stay with Axl. You were fantastic, really.” 

He grabbed Duff’s face with both hands, but he angrily freed himself with a shake of his head. 

“What is this all about?” he asked. And why did Axl know what was going on when he had no idea? The need to understand became more and more urgent. 

“What you managed all on your own, that was awesome. But this is not for you. Stay with Axl.”

“Not for me? What …”

“Come on.” Axl grabbed his arm and directed him out of the room. “He’s right. Come on, I’ll show you how to make the amulet.”

Duff followed, but not without craning his head to look over his shoulder. 

“What is he talking about?” he asked. 

“You don’t want to know,” Axl said, his voice grim.

“Yes, I do!” Duff freed himself out of his grip. Did they all have to manhandle him like an unruly child?

“No! You don’t!” Axl had stopped and stared at him. 

“What is he going to do?” Duff repeated. 

Axl sighed. “He is going to leave an impression.”

“What does that mean?” It couldn’t mean what he thought it meant. “He’s going to beat him up?”

Axl hesitated. “Too primitive for Izzy. And not effective enough.”

Duff felt all blood drain from his face. “He’s going to torture him.”

“Yes. And now come…”

Duff was already on his way back to the storage room, but Axl blocked his way. He tried to shoulder past him when Axl lifted his hand and Duff was hit by a sudden bout of energy. The jolt was so hard, it knocked the air out of his lungs and his feet out from under him. 

“I thought you didn’t want to practice,” he sputtered when he found himself flat on his ass.

“I didn’t,” Axl replied. “This is what came all on its own.”

He shook out his wrist as if it hurt after the thrust. “Oh, and Duff: don’t you ever try again to push me out of the way. I don’t stand for shit like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Duff said. He was. Being rude to Axl was not part of his normal behaviour. “But we can’t let Izzy …”

“Yes, we can.” Axl’s expression was difficult to read, grim, hard, with the tiniest grain of compassion. For Duff, not the vampire. “Stuff wool into your ears if you can’t listen. This is the ugly side of the business and maybe you were not yet confronted with it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Thank God it doesn’t happen that often.”

“But…”

“A hundred vampires, Duff. I was wrong and Izzy was right. They won’t just stop hassling Foxhill because we ask nicely. If we don’t adopt drastic measures, they will keep picking their prey among people we know. What Izzy is doing is necessary. We have to warn them off for good.”

That didn’t justify torture, Duff wanted to scream. Nothing justified torture. 

“Listen, Duff,” Axl continued. “I don’t have time. Izzy needs my help and while I feel for your woes, Izzy comes first. We will go upstairs and make this amulet. You can yell at him all you want once the vampire is gone, but until then you’ll leave him alone to do his job. The last thing he needs is being questioned by his own assistant in front of one of them.” He pointed at the floor. “So, are you coming or do I have to block doors to keep you from doing something stupid?”

“Maybe you should make me touch one of your wretched amulets,” Duff snapped. 

Axl didn’t rise to the bait, he just tilted his head a little. “Do you need me to? I have some more in the shop.”

Duff gave in. That’s what he got for living with two wizards. If they wanted him to obey, they had means to make him. Not that Axl would follow through on the threat. Or maybe he would. All of a sudden nothing was a given anymore. But at a minimum, he would block his way effectively and sitting in front of the door like a locked-out dog was too embarrassing. 

“Where’s Slash?” he asked when they were in the laboratory. 

“Out. When the crystal turned black we knew that there would be more than a little trouble. He’s checking the neighbourhood.” Axl started collecting ingredients. 

“How come Izzy saw it?”

“Actually, Slash noticed. It lay in a bowl in the library. Now shut up, I have to concentrate.”

Axl really didn’t have time for him and so Duff sat down and watched. 

He picked a spool of thick copper wire, and cut about a yard. Then he twisted and knotted it into a pattern that resembled the lupius Kate was wearing. The hairs he had plucked off Izzy’s scalp were carefully incorporated into the delicate swirls and spirals. When he was done, he dropped it into a clay pot and added various substances. As always, a match followed and a yellow, sulphuric-smelling flame shot up. 

It was past midnight when Duff was alerted by the first scream. Axl’s proceedings had taken his mind off what was going on downstairs, but now his awareness was fully back. Cold sweat broke out under his arms, and he shivered despite the heat that burned up his muscles. 

He got Axl’s reasoning, he really did, but his conscience was diametrically opposed. Everything he had grown up to believe to be true, no, everything that he knew was true, knew deep in his heart and without a doubt, told him that torture was never justified. And that a good person shouldn’t think about resorting to such atrocities, leave alone muster the cruelty to follow through. 

Automatically he stood up again, but one look from Axl made him return to his seat 

“I won’t let you go down,” Axl said softly. “You don’t have to worry about whether it’s your sacred duty to go and stop Izzy because it is outside your control to do so. Understood?”

Duff didn’t reply. Another scream made him cover his ears, but then he moved his hands to his eyes and pressed his fists into his eyeballs until it hurt. 

“Has Izzy done something like this before?” he asked. Of course, he had. Otherwhile Axl wouldn’t be so calm about this, so … well-informed.

“Once.” 

Duff looked up when the voice was closer than he had expected. Axl stood next to him and for a moment he thought, he would pet his head as if he was a scared child. 

“When Kate was turned. There was a whole pack of werewolves and Izzy was unable to catch them all. He killed … six, I think, but no end. They just kept returning for more. Every full moon we had new victims. Plural. So, he sent the seventh one back to them. After that, they looked elsewhere.”

“Is he … what … using spells?” Doing what he hadn’t wanted to talk about because it was too … unappetizing? 

Axl shook his head. “Or, yes, partly. But it has to be visible if it’s supposed to be deterring.”

Duff shuddered. His stomach hurt and cramped and before he could help it, he started puking. His knees hit the floor, his throat burned as he forced up beer and bile. Axl held him by his shoulders, wiping his hair back while he retched. Then, without a word, he led him back to his seat, handed him some water, and cleaned up. 

“Maybe you should go to the attic,” Axl said when he was done. “Put another storey between you and … “ He picked up the bucket. 

Duff shook his head. The idea of hiding under the covers, pretending that he did not know what was going on … what Izzy was doing … what the man he loved more than anything … had loved more than anything … was doing. 

In the end, they relocated to the kitchen. It was on the other side of the building while the library would have been directly above Izzy’s …. torture dungeon. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the house had a dungeon. And why was he surprised? What had the thought Izzy was doing? Play hide-and-seek with the bad boys? He had seen him kill, not only vampires, and it hadn’t irked his conscience in the least. But that had been self-defence, hadn’t it? This was something entirely different. 

“Stay here,” Axl ordered and pointed at the table. 

Then he fetched the whisky bottle and started to fill him up. Duff didn’t complain. He drank until he was numb, and he would have continued drinking if he hadn’t been disturbed by noises in the corridor.

Before Axl had a chance to react – or maybe he chose not to react, it was hard to say, Duff escaped and opened the door. Izzy stood at the bottom of the staircase, his face a grim mask. He held the vampire by the reminders of his torn shirt. The coat was gone, the rest of his clothes cut up and bloodied. 

Not his blood, Duff reminded himself, but the blood of his victims. It should make him feel better, but somehow it didn’t. 

“We’re clear?” Izzy asked. 

The man nodded frantically. Duff spotted the amulet dangling around his neck.

“If it should be brought to my attention that you’re not doing exactly what I told you to do …”

“Won’t,” the vampire said. 

“You have four hours until sunrise. I’d say that’s a fair chance. Make the best of it.”

He dragged the man through the shop and kicked him out the front door. Then he repaired the salt line and reinstalled the floorboard. 

“What if he kills somebody on his way back?” Duff asked. “Won’t he have to replace all that … blood?”

“It’s not that much,” Izzy bolted the door. “But, yes, he will have to feed soon. Only he will realize that he can’t.”

“Can’t?” Duff asked. What had Izzy done? Cut out his fangs?

“You’re hurt.” Izzy reached out to touch his cheek, where George Pugh’s fist had gotten him, but before Duff could stop himself, he flinched away. 

Izzy let his hand sink. He tried to appear nonchalant about the repulse, but Duff saw the hurt in his eyes. 

“He doesn’t know it yet,” he said. “But the sigil I have carved into his neck?”

Duff remembered and nodded. 

“It will keep him from feeding.”

“For ever?” Duff asked, not sure if this was good or horrifying. 

Izzy nodded. “Yes. It will take him a day or two to realize that it doesn’t only keep him from humans, but from … everything alive. So, yes. He will starve to death.”

He wiped his hands on his thighs, shouldered past Duff, past Axl, and then there were steps on the staircase. Duff didn’t follow. He would sleep in his own bed for a change. In fact, he wasn’t sure he would ever again be able to sleep in Izzy’s bed. Or talk to him. Or look at him.

He went into the kitchen to fetch the whisky bottle, but when he stared dumbly at the table, it was gone. 

Duff had barely closed his eyes when he was woken by … something. He sat up, careful to not hit his head against the pitched roof, and listened. There it was again. Moaning. Low, but pained and desperate. He stood up and climbed down the ladder, only to meet Axl on the landing.

“What…,” he wanted to ask, but then he heard it again. It was coming out of Izzy’s room. 

“Nightmares,” Axl said. “Had to be expected. Go back to bed.”

“But…”

“Go back to bed, Duff!” Axl repeated. “I know how to handle this.”

Duff watched how Axl vanished inside Izzy’s room and closed the door behind himself. His first impulse was to follow, but it was obvious that he wasn’t welcome. And if he was honest, he didn’t want to be anywhere near Izzy anyway. He crossed his legs under himself and waited at the bottom of the ladder.

Slash, in cat form, came out of Axl’s room and sat next to him, and Duff scratched him behind the ears until the moaning stopped and silence settled once more over the house.


	12. Paranoid

When Izzy refused to show the next day, Duff had no idea whether he was worried or relieved. On the one hand there was this urge to make sure he was all right, on the other hand, he would not be able to act anyway normal around him. 

Therefore, he didn’t complain when Axl sentenced him to cleaning the shop. It was Saturday after equinox, and he was as drained, if not worse, as all of Foxhill’s party goers, but it was all right. There wouldn’t be any customers today and whatever they were doing could as well wait until Monday, but the idea of sitting around and thinking about last night was intolerable. 

He thought anyway, while he cleared out shelf after shelf, wiped it down, and put everything back into place. It was a monotonous job, but the only one he was capable of without either destroying something expensive or killing himself by mishandling magical items. His thoughts were running in circles, intercepted only by the screams he could not force out of his memory. 

It was a level of brutality he couldn’t deal with and whatever argument he tried to bring up to vindicate this behaviour failed to convince him. Not long ago they had talked about dark spells, about fear and pain. Izzy had claimed that these spells were abhorrent to him, so much that he hadn’t wanted to discuss them. And now he had used them. To what effect? Deterrence? Was there really no other way? Would it even work? Would they send a bigger troop next time? One Izzy couldn’t take out? 

Or did Izzy have a sadistic streak? One he refused to acknowledge to himself, but which broke through when he found justification? Flimsy excuses that, yes, sorry, he didn’t like it either, but somebody had to do it? And then he let go of his inner evilness, dragged his victim down into his torture dungeon … what person in their right mind had a torture dungeon … and submitted to his dark side. 

Duff shuddered. What did he know about Izzy? He had scars he refused to show, lovers he wouldn’t acknowledge, a past he withheld from those closest to him. What person did something like that? A person who had reason to hide, that kind of person. 

He had been such an idiot. He had been flattered by the attention, seduced by the novelty that was Foxhill, the mystery that was Izzy, the new world with all its sparkles, the miracles he hadn’t known existed. 

‘Time to pay the piper, Duff!’ he told himself. For the piper had shown his true colours. 

“All right.” Axl slammed the ledger shut. “I’ve been watching you for the better part of an hour. And I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

Duff looked up from shelf number twenty-six, but didn’t reply. Axl would be on Izzy’s side. They were two of a kind. 

“What Izzy did …”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Duff wiped the shelf with extra diligence. 

“Pity because you will. Vampires, Duff, are not human.”

Duff tossed the rag into the bucket and turned around. “Some people say the same about you.”

“I’m aware.” Axl perched on the counter, which was almost unheard of. The counter was holy, it was not made to sit on or drop stuff on that didn’t belong there. 

He looked tired, Duff couldn’t help but notice, paler than usual, his hair a bit greasy and still in yesterday’s clothes. Had he slept at all or spent the night comforting Izzy? Comforting the torturer instead of the victim. 

“And Izzy is half fae. That’s definitely not human.”

“I’m aware of that, too.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised his chin 

“So, where’s the difference?” He started to put merchandise back onto the shelf. 

“Do you know what a vampire is, Duff?”

“Somebody dead who is no longer dead,” he muttered. “Somebody who was turned into something he wasn’t before. Just like Kate.”

“No, that’s not right,” Axl said, still astonishingly cool. “A vampire is a demon.”

“I thought demons belonged into the demon-dimension.” He turned around again, suddenly interested.

“Yes. But somehow, somewhere, in distant memory, somebody pulled a demon out of that dimension and put it into a corpse. And so, the first vampire was born. At least that’s how the legend goes. Fact is, inside each vampire there is a demon. And when they create new vampires, they split off part of themselves and use it to revive another freshly killed corpse. Kate is still Kate. The creature that rises from the dead as a new vampire has nothing to do with the person they were. The body is just a vessel they use. And unlike Kate, this creature is unable to create its own life energy. They suck it out of others like a parasite. They don’t have human emotions. They don’t have feelings. A vampire will never have pity for you because they consider it to be weakness. The one Izzy sent back? Unable to feed?”

Duff nodded. 

“He can’t feed from anything alive, but he could survive if his comrades allowed him to feed from them. They’re dead, so that would be possible. Only they won’t. If he is not able to kill, he is not worth to live. His own nest will happily watch him starve. Unless of course he manages to trap other vampires and drinks from them. Which he will try. All those aspects that make out a human being, like love, empathy, compassion? They don’t have that.”

“But Izzy should have all that! And it should keep him from doing what he did. Because if not, then where’s the difference between him and them?” He returned to his work. 

“Don’t think they will show a fraction of your sympathy for any of their victims,” Axl said. “The difference between them an Izzy is in the reason behind the action. I don’t have to tell you that because you know. You just refuse to acknowledge it because you’re currently on a holier than thou high horse.”

Duff knew that. Of course, he did. It didn’t change his opinion. Not so much because he felt pity for the vampire, but because Izzy had crossed a line. If Izzy was capable of such a level of brutality, then he was not the man he had thought he loved. Worse. It turned him into a man he feared. 

Sally had said she was afraid of Izzy. Now he knew why. 

“If it’s that easy,” he said. “Nothing wrong with what he did. Then why didn’t he tell me what he was planning? And why didn’t he want me there?”

“Because he wasn’t planning,” Axl said. “Finding vampires in Foxhill … again … having them hunt you, that was the final straw. And, sorry Duff, having you watch? You? Yes, you can hold your own and I do keep telling Izzy that he needs to stop treating you like a child. But you’re as soft-hearted as they come. And … Izzy will always try to keep …”

“Keep what, Axl?”

Most of the time Axl was easy to read, but right now Duff had difficulties. He stood very still, face a little pinched, but devoid of the usual storm of emotions that lit up his features. 

“You’re still seeing the world in a light that has long gone dark on him. You can’t blame him for trying to keep that light burning inside you. Yes, I know, you’re a big boy and it should be your decision. But, sorry, there are certain aspects to his work that Izzy will never allow you to see. This whole assistant job? That was a mistake, if you ask me. Not because you’re incompetent. You’re not. But you don’t have the mindset it takes to see certain things through.” 

“Nobody should have the mindset to see things like that through!” Duff retorted. “And this isn’t all there is. He never tells me anything. This doctor?”

“This guy in Heatherfield?” Axl asked confused. “What’s he got to do with this?”

“He used to be Izzy’s lover.”

Now Axl was the one who stared, eyes wide, mouth open. Good. There was a kernel of unease at the back of his mind that he shouldn’t spill the beans about Izzy’s affairs, but he was past caring. If things went on like this, he didn’t want to be Izzy’s lover either and that released him from any obligation of loyalty.

“I still don’t know how or why because he won’t tell me. And that guy wants him back. All this shit we’re doing here? Catching vampires and torturing them into submission? That’s not because of me or Foxhill or whatever. Its because Izzy feels he owes Dr Giles Edward Rowland. What for? No idea. Because Izzy won’t tell me. He expects me to just trust him. Only how should I trust somebody who does stuff like … like … that?”

He motioned vaguely at the backdoor. 

“What will he do next, huh? What’s the next savagery he feels is necessary? Oh, and will he tell me beforehand or just spring it on me and expect me to close my eyes if I can’t watch? Because I’m too soft or too naïve or what? Or maybe because I’m the last one in this house with a bit of a conscience?”

“I’m not saying Izzy is easy.” Axl’s voice had lost its acerbity. “And that’s shit. Total shit. Total Izzy shit, to be honest, but … I’m sorry, Duff, he is like that. You have to call him out on it. And not subtly or nicely. You have to put the gun against his head and threaten to pull the trigger. And you’ve got to mean it. He’ll tell you to shoot, but he’ll think about it. Will take him a few days, but he usually gets it. Or he will leave you. At least then you’ll know where you stand. Honestly? I expect him to be gone every other day. Sometimes I’m surprised he’s still here. If you want to live with him …”

“Right,” Duff interrupted him. “Maybe I don’t.” 

“You know what?” Axl turned his back on him. “I give up. I should say I don’t care either, but that’s not true. Because for some idiotic reasons I like you both. Maybe this was all a mistake and you are just not made for each other. But sometimes …” he had gotten off the counter and was pulling at the drawer that held the till. “Shit, why does this bloody drawer …” 

He pulled and jolted it and when it finally came lose, he tore it out of its hinges. 

“Goddammit,” he spat. “One of these days, really… “ He looked into the opening. “What’s … oh, there’s a coin that got stuck.” He reached inside, only to jerk back as if he had burned his hand. “What the hell…”

“What’s wrong?” Duff put down his rag and came over. “Should I …”

He reached out to help, but Axl slapped him onto his wrist while still looking into the opening. 

“Hands off, Duff!”

“I’m wearing gloves!”

“Still.”

Carefully he reached inside, pulled a coin out and laid it onto the counter. It was a shilling. 

“Anything wrong with it?” 

“You can say that.” 

Together they stared at the shilling. It looked completely ordinary to Duff. 

“Don’t touch anything,” Axl said and without a further word he ran out of the shop, leaving the door open.

“Izzy!” he yelled while stomping up the staircase. “Move your drunken ass out of bed. We’ve got a problem!”

Duff’s first impulse was to escape. Encountering Izzy was the last thing on his agenda for the next … fifteen years or so. Then he might have come to a decision about how to handle this newest development. Suddenly boarding the ship to the New World seemed like a good option. Why had he spent all his money on useless stuff like clothes? Oh yes, because he had been under the impression that he would stay in Foxhill. 

“Izzy!” Axl yelled again and hammered against the door. 

Somebody mumbled something unintelligible, a heavy crash startled him, followed by Izzy’s exasperated voice. More stomping on the staircase, and Axl returned. Izzy appeared a few seconds later, the nightshirt stuffed into his trousers at the front, but hanging out at the back, barefoot and unshaven. His face was crumpled, the usual hint at a crease between his eyebrows excavated into trenches.

“This better be worth it,” he mumbled and ran both hands through greasy hair. 

When Izzy cast him a short glance, Duff quickly looked away, but to his relief he didn’t try to start a conversation. Axl pointed accusingly at the shilling. 

“That had gotten stuck between the till and the drawer,” he said as if it was Izzy’s fault. 

Izzy propped his hands onto the counter and eyed the coin like he expected it to jump him any moment. Then, slowly, as if baiting a poisonous snake, he touched it with the tip of his index finger. 

“Yes,” he said. “I agree. Very good work.”

“It’s discharged,” Axl said. “And it hid itself.”

“Do you have an idea when it came in?” Izzy sat back on his haunches, as if another angle would change the result of his observations. 

“I’ll have to check the books for when we were a shilling short.” Axl squatted down next to him. Their heads almost touched as they stared at the rim of the coin. “And as I’m sure that I’m not the one who accepted it …”

Both of them suddenly turned their attention on Duff. 

“What?” he asked. “What did I do wrong now?” Flustered he looked from one wizard to the other. 

Izzy shook his head. “Nothing. And I can’t see anything. Maybe it was already discharged when it came in.”

“Do a full reading,” Axl said. “You said it yourself, it’s good craftmanship. And with his tendency to not wear the gloves …”

“He doesn’t have to wear gloves to touch money,” Izzy said. 

“Would somebody explain to me what you are talking about?” Duff asked. He was getting nervous. Very nervous. Izzy and Axl were watching him in the same speculative way they had bestowed on the shilling. Like an insect they were about to dissect. 

“The coin is enchanted,” Izzy said. “We don’t know what it’s supposed to do exactly because it’s already discharged. I’d need to find the effect to say for sure. All we know is that somebody touched it and attracted the spell. That could have happened before it was brought in. But discharged or not, Axl would remember if he had handled it before. So, it’s you who took it from a customer. There is a risk that you are the one who got bewitched.”

“I’m not bewitched,” Duff said. “I’d know if I were.” 

Izzy and Axl exchanged another look, one that made him even more nervous. 

“Duff,” Izzy said, keeping his voice deliberately calm and level which made Duff want to punch him. “Saying that you are sure you didn’t get hit makes it very likely that you actually are. Because you know how easily it can happen around here and normally you wouldn’t reject the possibility.”

“Yes, but you showed me how to recognize being jinxed. And I managed to fight off the vampire spell.”

“This is another category,” Izzy extended his hands, palms open, a little to the side. “I told you, the better the spell, the harder it is to recognize. From what I can feel here, this is very good. Most magical people would carry this around without noticing. It is so subliminal that I would assume a magical aura should be enough to fight it off. Which means, it was targeted at non-magical people. And that means, somebody might have tailored it for you.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Duff said. He didn’t have enemies. Unless one counted idiots like George Pugh. Izzy had enemies. And with good reason, when he thought about what had happened last night.

“It does,” Axl said. “Would you let Izzy check your aura? To be sure?”

Duff shrugged. He was not keen on going through … that again. “I’d rather not. But I’ll do it, if I have to. So, you’ll see that I’m perfectly all right and can stop accusing me of … of …stupid stuff.”

The two wizards exchanged another look and Axl nodded barely perceptibly into Izzy’s direction. “Go ahead.“

“We’ll better do it now,” he then said to Duff. 

“Now? Shouldn’t I finish here first?” he pointed at the shelf. 

“It can wait. Come on, no time like the present.”

“I’m really not bewitched,” Duff said, reluctant to follow. Staring into a flame and getting all aroused while Izzy was in the same room might once have been his idea of fun. Not anymore.

“I know aura reading is disgusting,” Axl went over his objection. “I hate it, too. But we have to make sure nobody got to you. You’re likely right and it’s nothing, but … you know. Better safe than sorry.”

Duff sighed. He searched for additional reasons to decline or at least delay the examination, but nothing truly made sense. If he had to do it, then Axl was right, and he should get it out of the way.

“If you all think it’s necessary,” he said. “But … can you stay?”

Having Axl there would be safer. Izzy might be leading him on. There was the distinct possibility that he would get him all hot and bothered during the procedure, only to coax him into bed afterwards. Or use magic to get him in the mood. He may claim that he had never done it except that one time, but Duff wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe everything was fake. His attraction, his feelings. Izzy had pretty much admitted that he could manipulate all of that. How could he be sure it hadn’t happened?

Axl gave him a perplexed look, but then he nodded.

“Thanks.” It was not ideal because Axl was always on Izzy’s side, but it was better than nothing. 

“Come on,” Axl took his arm. “Let’s go.”

With a lump the size of a grapefruit in his throat, Duff walked ahead of him up to Izzy’s room. The bowl was set up on the table and he stared at it full of trepidation.

“Thanks for coming,” Izzy said softly. “Sit?” it came out like a question. 

Duff had no idea why it had to be this horribly uncomfortable chair, but he squeezed himself in between the armrests. Hopefully it would keep him from getting too aroused this time. It definitely kept him from moving. 

“Ready?”

Duff nodded and the fire sparked inside the bowl.

“Look into the flame,” Izzy reminded him when his eyes slipped to the side every time he tried. 

Instead, he stared at the scorch marks on the table, the grain in the wood, anything but the burning leaves in the ceramic dish. He jumped when somebody touched his shoulders, but slumped when he realized that it was only Axl. 

“Let me help you,” he said as softly as Izzy was talking, and then he slipped his hands around his jaw and held him into the direction of the flame. “Good like this?” he asked. 

“Better,” Izzy replied. “Not perfect, but I guess that’s all we’re getting … oh hell, there it is. Man, this is a nasty one.” 

Duff started to sweat. He tried to look away, but Axl held him in place. He closed his eyes, but a pinch into his cheek made him open them. He was growing hard, too. He knew Izzy had insisted on this bloody examination to trick him, but he hadn’t expected Axl to help him. Of course, he did. They were working as a team, always had. How could he have been so stupid? 

He started to struggle. It was not easy because the chair restricted his movements into pretty much all directions and Axl kept a firm hold on his shoulders. Now he knew why Izzy insisted on this monstrosity. To restrain his victims. Duff kicked his legs, tried to free himself. His knees hit the tabletop and when Axl pushed the chair forward, he got stuck.

“How much longer do you need, Izzy?” he snapped while adjusting his grip with one arm over Duff’s throat and the other hand in his hair. “Because … I’m having some …serious … difficulties … here.”

Duff intensified his fight, he squirmed between the high armrests, tried to turn around, to somehow get out of the choke hold, but Axl wouldn’t let him. 

“Done,” Izzy said. “He’s not looking into the flame anyway.”

He came around the table and Duff saw his chances dwindle. Axl pressed him once more into the chair, then Izzy’s fingers were on his forehead forcing themselves into his scalp, searching, finding … 

“Sorry for this,” Izzy whispered, and the world went black. 

When Duff came to, he lay flat on his back. He tried to sit up, but found out he couldn’t. Panicked his head whipped around to where his hands … and feet … were tied to Izzy’s bedposts. He gasped and when the complications of his situation hit him, he almost fainted again. 

Out of the wink of his eye he caught movement. Izzy stood up from where he had been sitting at the table, and slowly, predatory approached the bed. 

“Please, let me go,” Duff whispered. “I swear, I won’t … won’t…” Won’t what? Won’t tell anybody? Tell what? So far nothing had happened that was worth telling. But soon it would. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what was Izzy going to do to him? 

Izzy sat down on the corner of the bed, careful to not touch. 

“Listen, Duff,” he said. “You won’t believe a single word of what I’m explaining here, but try to listen.”

In an attempt to keep his frantic gasping under control, Duff tried to breathe through his nose but that didn’t provide him with enough air. Wide-eyed he stared at the creature in front of him. They had been right. Everybody had been right. Lola, Constable Carter, even Father O’Brian. Supernatural creatures were monsters. The bane of humanity, spawned by the devil, crawling right out of hell. They might pretend to be nice for a while, but eventually their true identity would come forth. 

“You were bewitched,” Izzy said without directly looking at him. “The spell causes paranoia. And I’m an idiot that I didn’t notice earlier, but to be fair, it was a damned good spell and you did a damned good job resisting. Axl checked the books and we found the day it must have happened. Right after we came back from Horley. If it wasn’t for yesterday …,” he broke off, “…yesterday triggered the next level,” he finally said. “And reading your aura made it act up further. But that’s not important at the moment.”

Then why was he talking about things that weren’t important? But for as long as Izzy talked, he wasn’t torturing him, so talking was good. Could he make him talk longer somehow?

“Still, explain,” he said. Not that he planned to listen, but it gave him time to go through his options. Which were … zero. Should he offer sex? Izzy was obsessed with sex. He had used magic to get him into bed, had twisted his mind until he had desired every unnatural act one could think of. 

A little voice told him that he had craved all those unnatural acts way before he had met Izzy, but Duff shut it up. He didn’t have time for internal debates, he had to find a way to get out of this alive and in one piece. 

“Later,” Izzy said. “When you’re yourself again. I’ll explain everything and you can hit me or leave me or … whatever you feel you have to do. Now, here’s what’s going to happen.”

Duff stopped his frantic thinking. Would he be informed about the acts of torment he would now be submitted to? If so, did he want to know in advance? 

Izzy took a deep breath. Oh God, if he was horrified by it himself, how terrible would it be? 

“We can’t just undo the spell. It has to run its course. But we can accelerate it and that’s what we’ll do. This means, we’ll take you through the whole process within a few hours instead of … weeks.” 

He swallowed and hooked his fingers around each other, still not looking at him. 

Duff didn’t understand a single word. Why was Izzy still talking about this non-existent spell? Hadn’t they established that it had been a hoax to have him submit to the bloody aura reading? Which had served to knock him out and tie him to the bed? So that Izzy could …what? What did he want? Talk more bullshit? 

“I’m not lying here, Duff, it will be … not nice. You’ll be scared out of your wits. You’ll likely think that I’m out to kill you.”

“Isn’t that what you’re planning?” Duff said before he could stop himself. And was that his voice? So shrill and desperate?

Izzy shook his head. “I know that nothing I can say will make you change your mind. And I wish we were on better terms because after … yesterday … I’m not sure if I can distinguish between what you really feel and what is caused by the spell. And when this is over and you’re yourself …and if you still hate me then … “

“I will always hate you!” Duff said. Really, what kind of illusions was Izzy indulging in. He had probably smoked opium. Or taken laudanum. Yes, that would explain a lot. These inconsistent ramblings for example. He was drugged out of his mind, had lost all inhibitions and was succumbing to the dark core every supernatural creature had. “How could I not hate you? For … for … being cruel and … and sadistic and …”

He stopped when the door creaked. Slash, in cat form, held it open with his body while Axl carried a whole tray full of equipment. Duff’s heart sank further. Nobody would help him. Izzy would torture him, and they would all enjoy the show. 

“All ready.” Axl put the tray onto the table. “Any lucidity left or have we moved on to stark raving mad?”

“I don’t know,” Izzy replied. “Most of what Duff’s saying still makes sense. But he also thinks I’m out to kill him, so … not sure.”

“Not sure, huh?” Axl muttered. “Does that happen on the regular that your lovers think you’re out to kill them? If so you might want to reconsider your behaviour.”

Duff wanted to say that, yes, he was very lucid and very aware of what was going on, but it was never a good idea to bait one’s jailers. 

Izzy picked at his trousers. “You know how it goes. Increasing the energy flow might have fully unleashed the spell.” 

His hand hovered over Duff’s thigh for a moment and Duff tried to crawl back into himself to escape the touch. Izzy pulled away. 

“Let’s get started,” he said. 

“All right.” Axl brought a cup over. “Now, Duff, how are we going to play this.?Will you take your medicine or do I have to force feed you?”

“Axl!” Izzy said. “Really. It’s not his fault.”

“It kind of is because he wasn’t wearing his gloves as I keep telling him,” he replied. 

“To handle money? That’s a bit over the top.” 

“Right,” Axl sighed. “We should glue the gloves to his hands, you know? But, if you insist, I can be nice. How’s this: open your goddamn mouth, Duff, or I’ll hold your nose and pour this down your throat.”

Duff pressed his lips together. 

“Thought so,” Axl said. “Slash, hold his nose. Izzy, stay back and if you can’t watch, cover your eyes, or something.”

Izzy really stepped away from the bed and Duff was thrown for a momentary loop. So Axl would be the one torturing him? Or would they take turns? Or … or…

“Slash! Shift, man!” 

Slash shifted and before Duff could protest, he held his head and pinched his nose. Duff tried to not give in, to not open his mouth, but it was hopeless. He didn’t last more than maybe two minutes before the potion went down his gullet. He choked and sputtered and tried to spit it out, but as he knew from when he had almost been turned into a werewolf, they were utterly effective in force-feeding their poisons to helpless victims.

And why hadn’t he learned his lesson from that episode? Why hadn’t he left and run the next day? Because he had been deluded, that’s why. Or under a spell. He had always been under a spell, that was the problem. Right from when he had stepped into the shop for the first time. Petting the cat was what had jinxed him. He had touched the cat without wearing gloves and that was when it had all started. 

“All right,” Axl made room. “He’s all ready for you.”

Izzy sat down on the bed again. Unlike Axl he was obsessed with explaining his plan of action, even though anything he said made the slightest bit of sense. But what did he expect from somebody strung out on opium?

“Duff?” he said and Duff forced himself to listen to another round of disjointed ramblings. “I’ll draw some sigils onto your chest. And then I have to kick off our spell. I need to touch you for that. Nothing else will happen, just what I explained to you.”

“Right,” Duff spat. “As if I believe a single word, you’re … what … what are you doing? Stop that!” 

Izzy had started to unbutton his shirt. Duff squirmed, but he did not have enough leverage to pull away. They were beginning! 

“Please,” he begged. As if Izzy still had any feelings for him that might make him show mercy. As if he had ever had any feelings for him. As if he hadn’t always been pining after his doctor. Duff knew he hadn’t been more than a temporary distraction, but he still couldn’t stop himself from begging. “Please, you don’t have to do this, Izzy.”

“It’s over in a minute,” Izzy said.

Duff closed his eyes. Cold air hit his skin when Izzy moved the lapels of his shirt to the side. He shivered and tried to pull in his belly, away from what would happen now. What would it be? A knife? Fire? Izzy liked to play with fire.

He screamed when something touched his chest, but it was only a finger. Unable to not look, Duff opened his eyes again. He hiccupped in panic while he watched it draw patterns onto his skin. What for? Was this some type of unholy ritual? To call a demon and have it inhabit his body?

“All right,” Izzy said. “I’m sorry, I now have to…” He breathed out again. 

His eyes were dark and if Duff hadn’t known better, he’d have said full of anguish and sorrow and even despair. Which didn’t make sense at all. Izzy bit his lip, and then he reached out and pressed his palm against his forehead. Duff closed his eyes again, waiting for the pain. It didn’t come. Instead, he felt … exactly what he had felt before. Clearer now. 

His stupidity in running into this trap stood out in bright colours. How they had lured him in by offering him a job, making him feel welcome, important, loved. Because they needed a human body as vessel for a demon. They had corrupted him and defiled him until his soul was damaged enough to allow some hell spawn to force it out of its home He had been so, so naïve.

Axl’s way of pushing him step by step into Izzy’s bed. Izzy, endearing himself with his ridiculously social gormlessness. Nobody was that incapable of maintaining simple human interactions as Izzy! Why hadn’t he realized that it was all an act? 

“All right,” Izzy said when he pulled his hand away. “Now all we have to do is ride it out. You’ll manage, Duff. I promise. It will be one hell of a night, but tomorrow you’ll see clearer.”

“I’m seeing clear enough,” Duff forced through gritted teeth, spittle forming on his lips as he spoke. “I’m…”

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Kate’s timid face appeared in the opening. Was she in on the scheme, too? She was depending on Izzy and Axl as werewolves were not allowed in Whittlingsfield. They controlled her by using her fears. 

“It’s Saturday,” she said. 

“Yes?” Izzy gave her a puzzled look. Axl and Slash seemed equally clueless. “This is really a bad moment, Kate.”

“Willy is downstairs. For dinner.”

Willy Clarkson, ten-year-old master spy and a non-magical person, had developed a habit of dropping by each Saturday evening for dinner and a night on the couch in the library. Originally planned as temporary solution, he had grown so fond of the opportunity to stuff his belly, that he simply had kept it up afterwards. 

“Argh,” Axl stood up. “I forgot about him. Send him home with some food.”

“Willy!” Duff yelled at the top of his lungs. “Run! Run and get help!”

“Goddammit!” Izzy quickly covered his mouth with his hand, but Duff just screamed against it. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to free himself, and suddenly he got something between his teeth and bit down. Izzy cursed and pulled his hand away, and Duff screamed again for Willy to run. 

Slash reacted immediately. He shifted into cat and was out the door. Duff prayed to every saint he knew that Willy made it out of the shop, but he stood no realistic chance. Slash as a cat was too fast. 

“Has Willy ever seen Slash’s human form?” Izzy asked. 

Axl groaned. “I suppose I have to handle this. Come on, Kate.”

Kate looked even more spooked than before. Axl put an arm around her shoulder and steered her out of the room. 

“Don’t let him go!” Izzy called after them, his voice muffled as he sucked his bitten finger at the same time. “He can talk to Duff tomorrow, when he’s clear again, but don’t let him out tonight!”

“I’m not stupid!” Axl yelled back. 

“No!” Duff gasped. Oh God, what had he done? Sweat ran into his eyes, and he tried to rub his face against his arm. “No, please, don’t hurt Willy. He’s just a little kid.” 

“Duff,” Izzy said tiredly. “Nobody will be hurt. I promise. Willy will get dinner and … I’d say a good night’s rest, but that’s not in the card for any of us.”

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around his finger. Duff hoped it was clean, but why, he couldn’t say. Izzy could die from infection for all he cared! He looked more haggard than usual and if he had still an ounce of affection for him, Duff would have started to seriously worry. 

“Please,” he begged again, reminding himself that the current goal was not to lament about Izzy’s state of neglect, but to prevent being taken over by a demon. “Nobody will believe him anyway. And I’ll … you can do to me whatever you want. Just …” He started to cry. 

After that, things got worse. Duff cried and screamed and raged while it became clearer and clearer that there was no way out. Kate, Willy, oh God, Carol and his Mum, they would all end up in their spiderweb. 

In between all the horror, Izzy showed weird moments of mercy, allowed him to sip water or wiped the sweat off his face, before he again … did what? Why didn’t he start to torture him? Probably because neither Slash nor Axl had returned. They were in the dungeon with Willy and Izzy waited needed another witch for the ritual. That was the reason. Of course, it was. 

His torment went on for most of the night, until, all of a sudden, the terror ebbed off. He stopped caring. It didn’t matter, they could do with him whatever they wanted. Exhausted, drenched in sweat, screamed hoarse, he closed his eyes and gave up. And then, just like that, he knew that nothing would happen at all. Not to him, not to Kate, not to Willy. 

“Better?” Izzy asked and ran a shaky hand through Duff’s hair. 

He opened his eyes, wishing he could just close them again and sleep for a lifetime. 

“You look terrible,” Duff whispered. He wished he could touch Izzy’s cheek and feel the stubble. But he couldn’t because he was tied to the bed and … why was he tied to the bed? Oh yes, because he had behaved like a raving lunatic because … because he had gotten caught by a spell. Again. 

“Oh God!” he dropped back and did close his eyes. “What have I done?”

“Nothing,” Izzy said. “You haven’t done anything. If I let you loose, will you bite me again?”

“I … no. I’m sorry.” He had felt almost calm, but now his breathing got panicky again. “I … have I done anything else? Have I ….”

“All good, Duff.” 

Izzy untied his hands first, then his feet, before he helped him sit up. 

“Come on, drink something.” 

He handed him the cup and Duff gulped, unable to get the water down his hurting throat fast enough. 

“I …,” he stammered. “What … how ….?” He stared at Izzy, who looked rugged and torn, worse than Friday night, when he had … the vampire. Oh God, that had happened. At least he thought so. “I need to … I don’t know…” What was true? What wasn’t true? He couldn’t say. 

“You need some time to sort out your mind,” Izzy said. “Do you want me to stay until you’re clear or would you rather have me go? I can send Axl to stay with you. Or even Kate. Or … anybody.”

“I …,” Duff stuttered. “I’m so sorry. All those things I said...” Great. Now he was crying again. Bawling was more like it. 

“Hey, come on.” Izzy wrapped his arms around him and Duff clawed at his shirt while he wondered where all the tears were coming from and why they wouldn’t stop. “Nothing to feel sorry for. It was a nasty spell. And I made it difficult for you by … being an asshole. No wonder you couldn’t distinguish between what you had reason to believe and what was made up.”

Eventually he calmed down and pushed Izzy away. “I got snot onto your shirt,” he said. 

“I’ve had worth smeared over me,” Izzy replied. He still looked so unsure. “Want me to get Axl? To stay with you?”

“I want you to get into bed with me,” Duff replied, realizing that he sounded more petulant than a little child. “To sleep,” he quickly added. “Because, I swear Izzy, if you leave me alone after this …”

“Won’t,” Izzy said. Still unsure. 

“I don’t hate you,” Duff said. “I couldn’t … not … although …“ They would have to talk about it. But not now, when he was unable to find enough words for one single sentence. “I haven’t forgiven anything,” he said. “But I don’t hate you.”

“Tomorrow,” Izzy said, as if reading his thoughts. “Everything can wait until tomorrow. Except … you should talk to Willy. Five minutes. Set his mind at ease.”

“Oh,” Duff felt his face heat. “Yes, of course. I’ll go down…,”

“Stay.” Izzy stood up. “I’ll fetch him. I doubt he’s asleep.”

Duff was left with his embarrassment. He stood up and refilled his cup. Then he looked down at himself and noticed the icky stuff that Izzy had smeared over his chest. What the hell was it? He tried to wipe it away, but it stuck. And that wasn’t the worst. He was sticky, and sweaty and all in all disgusting. His scalp itched, his hair was so brittle from dried sweat, it almost crumbled between his fingers.

“I should probably wash before going to sleep,” he said when the door opened. “Hey Willy.”

“I’ll leave you two alone to … ehm … clarify a few things,” Izzy said. 

Duff wanted to tell him that it was not necessary, but he had already closed the door behind himself. 

“Are you all right?” Willy asked. His missing teeth had grown in and he was so clean that Duff suspected somebody had stuffed him into the bathing tub. Axl sometimes developed weird, motherly instincts. His dark hair looked washed, too, just his clothes were as dirty as always, if not as ragged as they used to be. “I swear, I wanted to get help, but Slash was so fast. And he isn’t a cat! Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Duff said. “Want to sit down?”

Willy perched on the uncomfortable chair and Duff ran both hands through his disgusting hair. 

“I thought he was a cat. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I got cursed,” he said instead of answering the question. He may have to at a later date, but right now he was not up to more than what was necessary. “Not by Izzy and not by Axl. They helped me through it. But it took a while and I did not know what I was saying.”

“That’s what Mr Rose said,” Willy replied. “But you were screaming … really loud. I bet all the neighbours heard it.”

“I know. I bit Izzy.” He felt weird surge of satisfaction thinking about it. “I’m sorry, Willy, I didn’t mean to scare you. What … what did you do all night? How late is it even?”

“Almost dawn,” Willy said. “We plaid cards, Mr Rose and Slash and I. Slash always won. He says it’s because cats are lucky.”

“It’s because he’s cheating,” Duff replied. “You think you can sleep now?” 

Willy thought about it. Then he shrugged. “Maybe not right away. You sure you’re all right? You don’t look like you are.”

“I am,” Duff replied. "Just … tired. I think I need some sleep. You too, I guess.” 

Willy nodded. He stood up, but before he left, he wrapped his arms around Duff’s neck. 

“I’m glad you are,” he said. “’cause if not, I wouldn’t want to come here for dinner. And Kate’s food is awesome.”

Duff stifled a laugh. If that was Willy’s biggest concern, then things hadn’t been too bad for him. 

“It really is,” he said instead. Kate’s pies were legendary. 

A few minutes after Willy had returned to the library, Izzy was back. 

“Feel up to bathing?” he asked. 

“What?”

He chuckled. “Axl said it was enough that I was a disgusting pig, you didn’t have to be, too. So, they heated water for you. Tub is in the kitchen, if you feel up to it.”

Duff felt a pang of guilt in the chest. Here he had yelled insults at them for hours and the first thing they did was prepare a bath for him because he might feel disgusting after raging himself out. 

“Hey, don’t start crying again.” Izzy wiped a finger over his cheek. “Go down. I think a bath will really do you good.”

“You, too,” Duff said, and now he did brush a hand over Izzy’s stubbly cheek. “You look … like you’ve been through a tussle with all the vampires of Horley.”

Izzy closed his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he said. “Go. Water is getting cold.”


	13. Flattened

Sunday-morning-breakfasts were never a joint endeavour. Kate did not come in on Sundays and so whoever was up first cracked some eggs into a pan. Sometimes the scent woke other household members. Izzy usually slept until lunch and today Duff felt inclined to do the same. 

He woke up when he heard Willy’s laughter downstairs. He should probably go and get a bite, but didn’t feel yet like meeting the others. He was far too embarrassed, but also far too comfortable. For once, everything was clean, he, Izzy, even the bed sheets. He had threatened Izzy with bodily harm if he didn’t take advantage of the leftover bathwater and had used the five minutes, he had spent on improving his appearance to exchange the sweaty linen. 

Izzy stirred next to him, still at a safe distance. They may have slept in the same bed, but rolled up each on their own side. Neither of them was ready to acknowledge reality and the huge elephant in the room yet. They dozed off and came awake at irregular intervals, until the sun had reached its zenith. 

“There are a couple of things we need to talk about,” Duff said when they were finally both sitting upright. 

Izzy gave him a tormented look and for once Duff agreed with him. He would love to forget not only last night, but the entire last month, but it was no longer an option. They had to talk, and they had to do it now.

“Really, Izzy,” he said. “We have to. There’s so much … and not only the curse. But also the curse. Because, why would somebody curse me? And then how I behaved. And how you behaved. And…”

“I know,” Izzy said. “Axl read me the riot act yesterday. While you were out.”

“You?” Duff asked. “Why? He is all on your side.”

Izzy laughed harshly. “Oh, believe me, he isn’t. And he’s right. I botched this up big time. Said I was an insensitive, self-absorbed pillock because otherwhile I would have noticed that something was wrong with you. And that it was my business if I insisted on living inside my head but that I shouldn’t complain if you left me for somebody who was able to show a bit more consideration and social adjustment than a wooden chopping block.”

“No,” Duff stuttered. “I wouldn’t leave you for that.” 

“But you agree with the rest?”

“Kind of.”

Izzy buried his face in his hands. 

“But I knew you were like that. I mean, you’ve always been kind of … thoughtless and … self-absorbed and … a bit full of yourself.”

“Yes, Duff, lay it on,” Izzy muttered into his hands. 

“If I hadn’t been cursed … I mean …, having all these paranoid ideas running through my head and being unable to talk to you that didn’t help. And you make it really difficult to talk to you, even when I’m not deluded.”

“I know.” Izzy looked up. “I suppose you should …“he pursed his lips. “You remember what I said? That a good spell will use your subconscious to draw out fears?”

“Yes.” Duff picked at a hangnail. “You’re saying that my paranoia wasn’t entirely made up.”

“It wasn’t. It was actually astonishingly reasonable. Except for the part where you accused me of trying to host a demon inside your body.”

“It’s not that far-fetched as one might think,” Duff muttered. 

Izzy gave him a disbelieving look. “In that case … start listing. All the worries you came up with. And all the questions. I’ll answer everything. I swear.”

Duff took a deep breath. “I would say, it mainly goes back to one. You’re hiding things from me.”

Izzy didn’t confirm it, but he didn’t contradict it either. 

“Dr Rowland knows stuff about you that I don’t know and that … gets to me. I think that’s the main issue behind everything. Also behind what came up later. Because I wasn’t sure what else you were hiding from me and my imagination went a bit wild. The vampire. Izzy, you tortured him.”

“Yes.” He looked ill at the memory. “I don’t like it, Duff. Believe me, it doesn’t get me all excited. It’s …” He broke off, forcing down a gag. 

“I know,” Duff said. And he did know. “And Axl told me all this stuff about how they were demons and would do the same in a heartbeat and, yes, I get it … kind of … but I still don’t agree.”

“Duff…”

“No! Let me finish.”

Izzy slumped against the headboard and watched his fingers fiddling with his nightshirt.

“If you commit things like that … atrocities, Izzy, ‘cause that’s what it is … then it will change you. You will either deaden your conscience or it will destroy you. No way around it. I can’t say which one would be worse. I don’t worry that much about this vampire. He tried to kill Ella and she is the sweetest, nicest girl you can think of. Really. But I care about you because if you do things like that, it will tarnish your soul.”

“Maybe my soul is already tarnished,” Izzy whispered barely audible. 

“Of course, it is,” Duff threw up his arms. “Mine is, too. That’s called living. You char your soul one sin at a time. That’s why it’s so important to make sure your sins are worth it. Like you and me, that’s worth a few scorch marks. A vampire isn’t.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Izzy exclaimed. His forehead was furrowed, his lips quivered and for a moment Duff thought he would cry. “They won’t leave us alone. They just won’t. I have no alternative. I have to somehow make them stay away. What else can I do? Tell me what and I’ll do it, Duff, but I can’t just sit back and watch. Killing them has no effect because they’re not afraid of death.”

“You could ask for help, Izzy!”

“No, I can’t, because …”

“You can. You know what happened during equinox?” 

He told him about George Pugh and the pack, the mass fight and his paranoia-driven decision to go after the vampires on his own instead of asking for help. Because if he couldn’t prove himself, then Izzy would surely leave him. He left out that last part of his reasoning though, it was a bit too embarrassing. 

“You had a choice in this?” Izzy asked, his voice squeaky. “I thought they had somehow managed to separate you from your friends.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point, the point is …”

“You ran after two vampires when there were hundreds of people around you could have asked for help?”

“Yes!” Duff exclaimed. “Because I was being an idiot and completely deluded by … by … delusions. And that’s an excuse you don’t have. You could ask them for help, too! Because, really Izzy, they are one fierce bunch of goddamn rowdies. I was stunned by how they only waited for an opportunity to beat each other up. Even Sally, I mean … she turned into this crazy bundle of feathers and talons when I’d always thought she was the nice girl from next-door. If you explained to them what was at stake here, they’d all have your back. Even George Pugh and his horde of morons. And that asshole packs a mean punch. I’m sure he wouldn’t shy away from hitting a vampire.”

Duff touched his jaw. 

“That was Pugh?” Izzy scowled. “I’ll let him know…”

“No, you won’t,” Duff interrupted him. “And don’t change the topic. They may all be a bit scared of you because you’re one bad tempered son of a bitch, sometimes. Doesn’t mean they won’t help you if you ask.”

“But it’s my responsibility,” Izzy muttered. 

“To what? Get yourself killed? Sorry, Izzy, sometimes you’re such an idiot. Nobody will be off any better or feel any safer if you die. Go to the council, tell them you need support. They should ask around who’s willing to help, go patrol, secure the borders. It’s ten times better and elevnty times more effective than what you are trying to do.” 

“You’d need somebody to lead them. And organize everything,” Izzy said. “I’m not good at stuff like that.”

“No, you’re not,” Duff had to agree. “But do you know who is? Axl. We’ll put him onto a soap box and have him hold a speech about duty and survival and stuff like that. You’ll see, they’ll sign up in droves.”

Izzy chuckled. “Duff,” he said. “You’re …”

“I’m what?” Duff asked. 

“Right, I suppose.”

“I am.” Duff had to admit, he was pleased with himself. “Promise this won’t happen again.”

“I don’t know. I mean…”

“Have I ever tried to change you?” Duff interrupted him. “Or push you? Or asked for anything you weren’t ready to give?”

Izzy shook his head. 

“This time is different. You have two options here. One, you promise me that you won’t do something like that ever again. Two, I’ll leave. I love you. I even get why you thought in your weird, contorted mind you had to. But I won’t watch you go down that path. I can’t. I’m too selfish to stay while you destroy your soul. Pick your priorities.”

For a long time, there was nothing but silence. Then Izzy nodded, once and curt.

“Good. I’m hungry. Let’s go down and have breakfast. Or lunch.”

Izzy nodded, but he didn’t make moves to get up. 

“Anything else?” Duff asked. 

“What you said,” Izzy started hesitantly. “About Giles knowing more about me than you.”

“Yes?” 

“He found me,” Izzy said. “I was hurt and I couldn’t go on and I had nowhere. No place to stay, nothing. I hadn’t eaten in days. And the weather was hell. He stumbled across me. Or rather, he couldn’t just go past because I was kind of lying on the road and he would have had to drive his carriage over me. He picked me up and had me stay at his house and he took care of me. Without him I would be dead.”

Duff nodded. “I thought something like that.” He blushed a bit when he remembered his wildly vivid fantasies, but consoled himself with the fact that he had been cursed. Cursed people apparently suffered from an extra colourful imagination. 

“I think … maybe something else was wrong with me because even when the wound healed, I didn’t really get better. It was … pathetic, really. I didn’t want to leave the bed and I didn’t want to eat because food tasted like nothing. And he did … every normal person would have tossed me out on my ass as soon as I was able to stand. I mean, I couldn’t even pay him. Instead, he did all these things for me. Like … he put an armchair next to a window so that I could look outside. Which I did … pretty much all day long. Every day. And he brought different types of food home, hoping he’ll find something I would eat. And he talked when I wouldn’t. Told me stuff I didn’t care about, but hearing his voice was ... soothing.”

Duff listened. Axl had told him that Izzy had been a wreck upon his return, but this was disturbing. 

“And then it was autumn and I started to fear … what if he got fed up with me? Just the idea that I would have to find a place to stay and food and … when I couldn’t go out of the door without feeling as if the sky was crashing over me? And … I may be an insensitive wooden chopping block, but I’m not stupid. I knew what was going on with Giles. Don’t ask me why he felt the way he did, because, really, I was no fun to be around, but somehow he was … kind of … attracted.”

Duff scowled. “He shouldn’t have pushed you. Not when you were ill and depending on him like that.”

“He didn’t.” Izzy pulled a face and eyed his fingers again. “He behaved … absolutely irreproachably. Really. Never said a word about his feelings. I know you’re thinking the worst of him, but Giles is a good guy. It’s all on me. I checked out his aura, of course, I mean, I didn’t know him, and I took whatever information I could get, so… I knew what he wanted. And I decided to … give it to him.”

Duff tried to process what he had heard. It took him a while because he couldn’t align it with Izzy at all. “That’s why you assumed that I might have thought I had to …”

Izzy shrugged. “I did it after all. So, who’s the whore now, huh? You or me?”

“You were sick.”

“I was completely healed,” Izzy said. “I have no idea what was wrong with me, I just … everything scared me. You know why I refused to leave the house? Because I started to tremble the moment, I was outside. That’s another thing I owe him for. He was so, so patient, but eventually he pushed me enough to move. Go out. Take a walk around the house first. Then a bit further. Whatever it was, maybe it was some kind of spell that had to run its course, I don’t know. But without Giles I would have holed up somewhere and died.”

“Then why did you leave him like that?” Duff asked. “You could have said good-bye.”

“I lied to him,” Izzy said. “About everything. He didn’t even know my name.”

“Maybe he would have understood.”

“And maybe he would have informed the authorities. You don’t want your mother to know that you’re working for a wizard. Imagine finding out you have been sharing the bed with one. Rescued him, sheltered him, wasted time and money on him. I couldn’t risk it. When I noticed … when I realized that I wanted to tell him… I was playing with the idea more and more and eventually I would have just done it.”

“So, you ran away. Before you came clean by sheer accident.” This was so Izzy, Duff thought. 

Izzy nodded. 

Duff raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure I’m the one who was hit by the paranoia curse?”

Izzy laughed. “Yes, and that’s why I said you held up amazingly. If it had been me, I would have killed somebody. And not in a manner of speaking, I would -literally- have killed somebody. You only cracked when I exacerbated everything by messing with your aura. Until then you were behaving … a bit unusual maybe, but given all that has happened lately, not completely unhinged. Everything you worried about was reasonable. You may not have handled it the way you usually do, but the emotions in itself, they made sense.”

“What would have happened? If Axl hadn’t found the coin?”

Izzy shrugged. “I don’t think you would have committed a murder. Through all your ravings you didn’t once threaten me with violence. Although I’m sure that was the goal. It’s usually what these spells are used for, to get somebody out of the way you can’t access. You turn a person who is close to your victim and have them do the deed. The nastiest part is, once the spell has come to completion, it’s not traceable anymore. I assume the idea was for you to kill me and nobody would know why. Just blame it on the usual disdain your kind has for us.”

“Are you sure it’s gone?” Duff asked, suddenly worried again. “I mean, I’m not feeling anything, but I didn’t feel anything before either.”

Izzy ran a hand through his hair. “I should have another look. But eat first because after last night, another aura reading will knock you out.”

“In a good way?” Duff smirked. He didn’t feel like sex at all, if he was honest, but he couldn’t keep himself from making stupid jokes. The whole situation was far too dire to not try and lighten the mood.

Izzy shook his head, not in the mood for mood-lightening. “Worst hangover you can think of. You’ll probably sleep for the rest of the day. So … is there anything else you want to know?”

Duff gave him a long, hard look. “Anything you left out?”

Izzy sighed. “You know what I left out. The wound. Why I had it.”

“Will you tell me?” It was kind of a test, and they both knew it. If Izzy kept stumbling from one halfway honest confession to the next, then they would play this bloody game again and again and Duff was not sure he had the perseverance for that. Sooner or later, it got old. 

“You know I lived with the Fae for a while,” Izzy said. “That they knew I was a wanderer between worlds and that they taught me how to use my abilities?”

“Yes. And that you left when they started to have …expectations, was what you said.”

Izzy nodded. “What I didn’t tell you was that I didn’t get far. Their expectations were a lot higher than I had thought and I had barely left the castle when I was arrested. Looking back, I had been naïve to think they would just train me and let me leave. So … I was then informed in detail about what exactly was expected.”

“And that was?” Duff asked. 

“To do whatever they told me.” Izzy shrugged. “I said something like … I guess it was a bit obscene.”

Duff snorted. 

“So, I got sent downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” Suddenly Duff knew where this was heading, and why Izzy had never talked about it at all. It had nothing to do with hiding secrets and not trusting anybody and everything with not wanting to relive the horror. 

“It was some kind of hole in the ground. Rock all around. Big enough for me to stand or to lie down, but not much more. There was no light in there. Like … not at all. Pitch black. No sound would reach it either. I would scratch my nails over the ground to make sounds. Pathetic, huh?”

Duff shook his head. “I wouldn’t have scratched. I would have screamed.”

Izzy smiled a little. “I tried that, too, but after a while it gets pretty harsh on your throat. That was the beginning. Darkness and silence. They knew I would be able to fight off mind altering spells, so later they gave me a potion. It made me confused mainly, so when they entered my mind, I couldn’t get rid of them anymore. I had this bracelet around my wrist. Meant they could access me from afar, any time they wanted. Wasn’t even necessary to get me out of the cell. That’s how I know that fear is a lot more effective than pain. Because that’s what came first.”

“You had enough reason to be afraid,” Duff said. 

“Yes, but this was different. Fears that made no sense at all. They were just there. After a while I had no idea what was real and what wasn’t. Everything just jumbled together.”

Duff thought that he had an idea how that felt, and wondered what it would do to him, if he had been subjected to that kind of fear for … how long?

Izzy scratched his neck, then shrugged with one shoulder. “The pain came later. I never knew when, how hard, how long. Sometimes it was just like a few needle pricks before it faded off for hours. Sometimes the needle pricks grew into something else. Sometimes they hit me out of the blue like pouring fire all over me. Sometimes it was just like that, short and so painful I couldn’t breathe, and other times it went on and on and never stopped. And all I had to do was sit in the darkness and listen to my fingernails scratching against the wall and waiting for the next round.”

“How did you escape?” Duff asked. For he had escaped. He had to hold on to that thought.

“I didn’t,” Izzy laughed softly. “I broke. They knew when I was ready. Then they took me out and gave me a task I had to do. I did. But they said I hadn’t put any effort into it, so I had to go back. Next time I did put effort into it, believe me. And I got rewarded with another hour upstairs. Before I had to go back.”

“Izzy…,” Duff whispered. 

“By that time, they didn’t need to use spells on me anymore. I was trained to a point where I freaked out when I thought about that goddamn hole in the ground. The fear was constant. Wouldn’t go away … at all.”

Duff wanted to say something, but what did one say to such a story? He had pushed Izzy into telling it, so now it was his responsibility to listen. Hopefully it would be enough. 

“Eventually they … explained my options to me. I could return to the hole. Forever. Which was an empty threat because I was far too valuable to rot away under the castle. But I wasn’t thinking clearly and so I believed it. Or I could … fulfil expectations. Which is what I did. And as a reward, I was kept in this really nice room they provided for me. Really nice. All the comfort you can imagine. It had a window. And when I opened it, I could hear the wind and the rain. It was nice.”

“A golden cage,” Duff said. 

“Yes. And I was grateful. You won’t believe how grateful. I did what they wanted. Whatever they asked of me.”

“What did they ask?” Duff asked. 

Izzy sighed. “Provide information, mainly. Knowledge. Secrets. Spells. And not about how to get your laundry extra white. Most of it was nasty stuff. From other dimensions. That’s the nice thing, you know? I wasn’t really there. Just in spirit. My body was tethered to wherever they wanted it to be, so they could always pull me back. But some of these dimensions are … let’s say, those are not places where you want to spend any time. Not even in spirit.”

“Why didn’t their other wanderer do this for them? Why did they need you?”

Izzy shrugged. “It was dangerous. If you have only one, you don’t risk losing them. But with a second wanderer ... they could send me to places I might not come back from.”

“How did you escape?” Duff asked again. 

“When I realized that I could not escape,” Izzy said, “that this was the rest of my life, and I had no way out, I don’t know, I somehow stopped eating. It wasn’t a conscious decision. I mean, maybe I should have thought about killing myself, but I never did. I just …stopped eating. Like it didn’t matter anymore. Eventually my mentor … their other wanderer ... I guess she liked me somehow. She felt pity and she helped me escape. Got the bracelet off my wrist, gave me the sword to open a portal and sneaked me out of the castle.”

“And that’s what you did,” Duff said. Had he been wounded then? 

“It’s not that easy,” Izzy said. “You can’t just open a portal anywhere. You need to find a place where energy lines cross. The more the better. Churches work well, not because they are consciously built at such locations, but because even non magical people feel the power and decide, it would be a good place for something holy. All stone circles are in places like that. Some burial sites, too. So I had to get to such a place first and the nearest one wasn’t an option for me.”

“You were hunted,” Duff said. 

Izzy nodded. “And they had enough material to track me. I mean, not only a few hairs, they had siphoned off enough of my blood to track me to hell and back.”

“But you managed,” Duff repeated, determined to stick to what little positive he could find in this story. 

“I did my best to shake them off, but I never fully managed. Eventually, I reached a place where I could open a portal,” Izzy said. “It wasn’t a very good one, but the best I could manage. Only I didn’t have the energy left to do it. Couldn’t get it to open. And I knew, I couldn’t go back. No chance. So …. I got this awesome idea to put an end to it.”

“Kill yourself?” Duff asked. 

“Ever tried to stab yourself with a broadsword?” Izzy said instead of a reply. “It’s not as easy as it sounds. You don’t get a decent leverage for a proper thrust and it hurt like hell. I guess I did it all wrong. I should have propped it up somewhere and fallen forward instead of trying to run myself throught. So I stopped and tried to gather my resolution for a second attempt. But when blood hit the ground where I had conducted the ritual, it provided the missing energy. And the goddamned portal opened. Only I had totally miscalculated and ended in Scotland instead of near Foxhill. I was bleeding pretty hard. And I knew I needed help, somehow. Although, really? I was past caring. It was just … I was going on for the sake of going on. Because I had been running all the time and stopping and lying down to die sounded so stupid. Like … I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.”

Duff had to smile, despite all the horror he felt. 

“So, I hid the sword and glamoured the tattoo, tried my best to not bleed out and started walking. Took me two days to reach the country lane. And the rest … I have told you.”

Izzy heaved breaths as if he had run all the distance from Scotland again. 

“Any more questions? Because I think, I really told you everything. But I might be wrong and …”

“It’s all right.” Duff wrapped his arms around Izzy. He went stiff first, but then leant into the embrace. He should probably say something heartfelt, express how disturbed he was, but Izzy wouldn’t want him to. Izzy would want him to laugh it off, and if that was impossible, at least not make a big issue out of it. So that was what he would do. 

“I still don’t understand why you thought you had to hide this from me,” he said as if it was no big deal.

“I didn’t think it would ever be a problem,” Izzy mumbled against his shoulder. “I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like to think about it either. I try not to. And if it wasn’t for Giles, it wouldn’t have been important.”

Duff thought differently, but getting Izzy to understand that was asked too much. 

“You see,” Izzy sat up and wiped at his face. “I’m really not … what you thought you had signed up for. And I mean, Sally is a nice girl.”

“Oh, shut up!” Duff shoved him. “Let’s go down and have breakfast. Lunch. Whatever. Dinner, probably. And then you check my aura and then I’ll sleep for the rest of the day.”

Duff would have loved to sleep for the rest of the day, but it was not meant to be. After another dissection of his aura, Izzy declared him cured, closed the curtains and Duff crawled with a raging headache back under the covers. 

He had barely slept an hour, when he almost fell out of bed, torn out of his dreams by a loud staccato rap against the door. 

“What …,” he gasped and wiped his eyes in a futile attempt to soothe the raw pain behind them. 

Izzy looked up from the stack of old parchment on the table and shrugged. Before he could give permission, the door was torn open and Axl stormed in. Despite his headache, Duff had to admit that he looked extra stunning today. Pale blue was his colour, mainly because it made his hair flaming red and brought out the freckles on his nose. And this dress was Duff’s absolutely favourite with how it flowed between his legs and accentuated … other body parts he refused to think about. 

“Your family is downstairs!” Axl said, eyes narrowed, foot tapping against the floor. 

“But …,” Duff stuttered. “No … that’s … the letter said next Sunday.”

“In that case. Who knows, with all the relatives you have, it’s probably just another branch of the McKagan clan coming over for a quick visit.” Axl’s face was almost as red as his hair. “They’re in the library.”

Duff looked over to Izzy who had grown paler than pale.

“I … get dressed, I suppose.” He climbed out of bed. 

“Oh, what for?” Axl crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Why stand on formalities?”

“Did they notice anything?” Izzy had recovered from his shock, although he had added a greenish touch to his pallor. “The business sign?”

“I flattened myself against the door to cover it,” Axl said. “And I ripped it off before coming up. You repair the finish of the goddamn door!”

Izzy rubbed a hand over the back of neck. “This is really not the best day for this.”

“You say!” Axl was on a roll while Duff searched for clothes that didn’t look as if he had spent the night raving like a maniac in them. “Although, yesterday would have been even better, so … I guess we can call ourselves lucky.”

“I … go down then.” Duff said when he was done dressing. His head was pounding and whenever he blinked, he felt as if sand was rubbing against his eyeballs. 

“You do that,” Axl said sweetly. “I have to exchange a few more words with my dear husband.”

“Sorry for that,” Duff whispered. On the one hand, he was glad that Izzy had found the time to get Axl to play along, on the other hand, he was worried he’d have to start fitting out the frog box. For both of them. “I … “ 

“Out!” Axl said. “Before I can regret exorcising you and wish I had just snapped your neck instead.”

Duff slunk out of the room and down the staircase. In front of the library, he stopped and took a deep breath. What did it say about him that he was reluctant to see his own family? He had no time to come to a conclusion, but it couldn’t be anything good. 

He knocked once and opened the door. 

“Mum,” he said, but he didn’t get any further for the all-encompassing hug he received knocked the breath out of him.


	14. Desperate

Carol epitomized life itself. She was tall and blond like Duff, lively and good-natured, but never had he seen her so radiant, as now that she sat on the couch next to her husband and showed off her ring. 

“It was John’s mother’s wedding band,” she said and her cheeks turned pink. “When she received the message that we were going to marry, she sent it.”

It was a simple ring, silver, plain and unadorned. 

“I wanted to buy Carol a nicer one,” Mr John Carpenter said. 

He was in his late twenties, maybe an inch shorter than his wife, good-natured, and a little overindulgent regarding meals. Whenever his look met Carol’s, his cheeks flushed and his eyes lit up. Because he had managed to attract the affections of a poor Irish chambermaid who could have called herself lucky to make a match half as well-to-do as an English attorney. Duff decided that he liked him. 

“My parents were not that well off when they married. It took a while for the business to turn profitable.” He looked around the library and smiled. “In fact, I grew up in a house very similar to this one. Shop at the front, living in the back. Only it was haberdashery, not spices.”

“I like this ring,” she pressed it to her lips. “I don’t want another one. John is an attorney,” she said as if she hadn’t mentioned it at least three times in her letter. 

After all the hugging and kissing and introductions, they had sat down, but now, a few minutes later, the door was opened again. Axl appeared, a tray in his hands. Mrs McKagan jumped up to take it from him while casting Duff a reproachful look. Right. Domestic hierarchy. Duff had almost forgotten how that worked. 

Mrs McKagan was a head smaller than her daughter, wiry, grey-haired, and resolute. Her children all came after their father. 

“The maid has her day off,” Axl said. “And as I told you, Duff has been unwell all day, so … I apologize for neglecting my duties as hostess. Duff? Do you have a moment?”

He stood up. 

“I hope you’ll all stay for dinner,” Axl said on their way out. 

“Dinner?” Duff squeaked when the door was closed. “I thought I make sure we leave as fast as possible?”

“I talked to Izzy,” Axl said. “There’s no chance you can go out tonight. We need to keep you under supervision. According to the expert, your aura is one convoluted mess. It will take a bit until it has settled.”

“But…”

“Shut up, Duff. Here’s how we are going to play it. You ask them to stay for dinner. Try not to make sheep’s eyes at Izzy and it should work out. Slash will stay a cat.”

“But they shouldn’t be outside after dark.”

“One of us will go and get them a cab when they want to return to their hotel. Now, chat a bit with your mother. I’ll try to get my dear husband presentable for visitors. Thank God he had a bath yesterday. Now I only need to force him to shave and find him some decent clothes.”

Duff watched him retreat. It sounded like a simple plan. One that couldn’t go wrong. Then why did he feel as if he was about to face a firing squad?

“Mrs Rose is a lovely woman,” Carol said, her voice full of admiration when Duff returned. “Isn’t she, John?”

John almost crushed one of Miss Agatha’s delicate teacups in his big hands as he gave her a panicked look. He had gotten a whiff of the spell, right next to his young wife. Duff stifled a laugh and hid his face as he sat down in the remaining armchair. 

“She definitely is a very lenient mistress, if she serves the tea to you instead of the other way round,” Mrs McKagan said. Now she stood up and perched over her son who suddenly felt at a severe disadvantage in his armchair. “Tell the truth, Duff. You are not sick. You are hungover.”

“I …,” Duff stuttered. “Yes,” he said to avoid explaining that he had been cursed, and had suffered through a horrible exorcism, followed up by a wizard messing around with his aura. Leave alone that Izzy’s disturbing confession was nothing he could file away under ‘things that happened but don’t really matter’. They needed some time to reconnect, sort out the awkwardness between them. Cuddling, kissing, making love. Instead, his mother glared at him.

“Ouch!” he yelled when her hand impacted with his cheek. 

“I can’t believe it. Do you have an idea how lucky you are to find a position like this?” She returned to her own place, picked up her cup, and balanced it primly on one hand. “You have always been lucky, but do you appreciate it? No.”

Duff almost told her about all the spells he contracted on a regular basis, but that would forfeit their endeavour to play happy non-magical family. 

“You get drunk and instead of going to church and taking care of your duties, you play sick. And your employers believe you and take care of not only you but also your work! I don’t care how hungover you are, you will make sure that your master and mistress have no reason to complain about you.”

“Yes,” Duff muttered. Suddenly he was nine years old and had forgotten to fetch water in time to start laundry day.

“I assume if the maid has her day off that kitchen work will fall on you?”

“Yes,” he said because in a normal household that would be the case. 

Usually, Kate had prepared something they could heat up, and in addition, they dragged out of the larder whatever was available. 

“Good.” Mrs McKagan stood up. “What are you waiting for? We can just as well chat in the kitchen. And we can help you because it seems you spent too much time lazing around to prepare a decent dinner.”

Duff cast Carol a helpless look. She shrugged. John seemed to be used to being run over and took it all in stride. Maybe his mother was of a similar type. If that was the case, then good luck with bringing a second matriarch into the household.

The kitchen was not as empty as he had hoped for. Hector slept in his basket. One of his baskets. By now he had baskets in every single room of the house. As Hector was not likely to suddenly shift into pony size, it shouldn’t be a problem, but on the table, there was Slash. Duff had no idea what his mother would say about a cat on the kitchen table, but unlike Axl he couldn’t just shoo him away. 

Mrs McKagan stopped and looked at Slash who turned curious amber eyes on them. 

“Oh my, he’s magnificent!” Carol exclaimed and reached out to pet him. 

“Hands of the cat!” Duff said hastily. “Sorry. He … ehm … Slash bites.”

Carol pulled her hand back, but his Mum gave him another reproachful look. 

“Are you still drunk, Duff?” she strode forward and gently scratched Slash behind his ear. 

Duff covered his eyes and inspected the larder. Watching his Mum pet Slash was more than he was able to take. But at least she hadn’t shoved him off the table, as he had expected. In fact, upon his return Slash lay on his back and purred while she rubbed his belly. Axl would have a heart attack. He didn’t like it when Slash presented his junk for all the world to see. 

Carol had turned her attention from cat to dog. She crouched next to the basket and tickled him. “What’s his name?”

“Hector. He’s … ehm … a guard dog.”

She laughed. “Does he slay intruders with cuteness?”

‘No, with his several inches long fangs,’ Duff wanted to say. His headache was getting worse and worse, but nobody seemed to care. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to make it go away, but it was useless. 

“So, what are we having for dinner?” Mrs McKagan wiped her hands and joined him at the counter. 

“We have leftover soup,” he said. “And leftover pies. Kate’s pies are awesome.”

“Kate is the cook?” his Mum inspected all the dishes and hummed appreciatively. 

“Are you on good terms with her? It’s important for a servant to be on good terms with the cook.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” Duff replied absentmindedly. Slash, curious as always, still sat in the middle of the table and watched. And grinned. Definitely. The bastard was amusing himself. 

“Are you taking advantage of her generosity, too?”

“Really, Mum,” Duff said. “I’m not taking advantage of anybody here. They are all just bloody nice people.” 

The slap came so fast, he didn’t have time to escape it. “Watch your potty mouth, boy! I hope you don’t curse around your mistress.”

Duff wanted to tell her that Axl cursed like a drunken sailor and that Izzy was even worse. Instead, he glared at Slash who was rolling around on the table in a fit of silent cat-giggles. 

“If your masters are good people, you should show a bit more respect. And more effort to be of service. These dishes will keep until tomorrow and your Kate will be happy to have something to serve right away. We’ll make something fresh.” 

She went to inspect the larder and Duff wished Axl and Izzy had killed instead of exorcised him. 

The kitchen was taken over by Mrs Marie McKagan. She declared they would start dinner with Kate’s soup, have minced meat and potatoes as the main dish and rice pudding with preserves for dessert. Then she had wrapped an apron over her good dress and inspected the mincer.

Duff was relegated to doing all the prep work. Carol and John sipped tea and played with Hector. Slash rejected more petting, but stayed on the kitchen table. Now and then he stole a piece of potato peel and kicked it around with his front paw. Did he think anybody believed this playful-cat-act? Duff was short of grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and tossing him out. 

He had just peeled himself through a mountain of potatoes, when Izzy entered. He froze in the open door, eyes wide and a little wild as if he had unwittingly stumbled into a troop of vampires. His hands twitched, reaching for the shotgun that wasn’t there. Axl had made him shave, and he did wear a clean shirt under his suspenders. In fact, he looked good, Duff noted proudly, only to realize that nobody would ever know that Izzy was his and not Axl’s.

“This is my family,” Duff said and stood up. To prevent carnage and bloodshed, he hid the knife under the potato peels. “My Mum, my sister Carol and her husband, Mr Carpenter. Mum, this is my boss, Mr … Rose.”

It took Izzy a moment to recover, and although Duff read flight instincts in his eyes, he overcame them and entered. Bravely he shook hands and said all the expected pleasantries without looking directly at anybody. He even offered Carol a shy smile. Duff breathed a sigh of relief, but realized his plight had only begun, when his Mum gave him a nudge into the back. 

‘What?’ he wanted to ask, but then he remembered. Domestic servant. Household hierarchy. 

“Can I help you with something, sir?” he asked. “Would you like some tea? Or a sandwich?”

‘Or a blowjob?’ he added silently. 

The look Izzy cast him spoke of utter bewilderment and if cats were dogs, Slash would have been howling. But as he was a cat, he sat upright on the table, his eyes darting back and forward between the players.

“I can … do it myself,” Izzy said and reached for the kettle. 

“Oh, it’s no bother.” Duff quickly snatched it away to refill it before his Mum could box him on the ear again. 

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, the door opened again and Axl appeared. It was like that theatre play Duff had once seen, where people suddenly entered the stage to embarrass the main actor more and more. If he had known that one day, he would be starring as lead in such a production, he wouldn’t have laughed so hard. 

“Oh.” Axl looked at Slash. “Here you are.” But then he went over to Izzy and put a hand onto his arm. “Why don’t you take Mr Carpenter to the library for a nice chat, my dear?” he asked, voice sweet, lids fluttering. Duff heard the daggers under his words. “I’m sure it must be boring for him in the kitchen. Duff can bring you your tea, now that he is feeling better.”

Poor Izzy. He had surely planned to escape from the scene as fast as possible and now Axl exacted revenge by settling him with making conversation. 

“I…,” Izzy may be socially inept, but he was also a monster hunting wizard and his recovery time was fast. “Good idea, my love. And may I say, you look especially fetching tonight.” He took Axl’s face into both hands and kissed him onto his forehead. “What did I do to deserve such a lovely wife? You must tell our guests the story of how we met. And how you wouldn’t give up on pursuing me until I said ‘yes’.” 

Axl pulled a face when Izzy kissed him again, on his cheek this time, but caught himself immediately. Duff squinted at his Mum, but to his surprise she didn’t look scandalized, but ... chuffed. 

“Just run ahead, honey.” He petted Izzy’s cheek. “Mrs McKagan, you should sit down, too. You’re our guest, not here to do the cooking.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Mrs McKagan waved a hand through the air. “In fact, it is a nice change from sitting around all day in a carriages. It was such a long journey. Please Mrs Rose, don’t deny me this pleasure. Having all the children flown from not only the nest but the country means I hardly ever get the opportunity to cook for a large family. I miss it.” 

Duff watched apathetically as his Mum returned to the chopping block and let the cleaver chuck down on to a piece of meat before cranking it through the grinder. 

“Duff?” Axl said after magnanimously granting their guest the pleasure of cooking dinner – not that he had had any other choice. Axl may be a force of nature, but Marie McKagan was a worthy match. “Sally is in the shop. In … full regalia. She says you still have her amulet.”

“I … oh yes!” The amulet. He had completely forgotten about it. “I’ll get it.”

“You do that. Right now!” Axl’s voice grew shaper and Duff ran. “He’s really a dear,” he heard Axl say to his mother. “We love him like a son. But sometimes he can be so forgetful. Duff! he yelled after him. “Why don’t you ask Sally if she wants to stay for dinner?” 

Duff didn’t think that warranted a reply. 

“They are still a bit shy around each other,” Axl went on towards his Mum. “But Sally is such a sweetheart, you would like her a lot.”

He stormed up to the attic where he searched for the trousers he had worn to equinox. They were nowhere to be found. Then he remembered. The vampire hunt. The wastewater ditch. Laundry pile. They were in the laundry pile. The one Kate had taken to her mother for washing. 

He stormed down the staircase again, where he ran into Izzy and John on their way to the library. 

“Get the frog box ready,” Izzy whispered darkly. “We’ll need it. For Axl. Because I’m gonna turn him into one. ”

Duff agreed. Axl in full vengeance mode was scary. The only thing that was scarier was Sally in harpy form in the shop while Axl sold her to his Mum as potential daughter-in-law. Marie McKagan would not miss out on the chance to inspect her youngest’s future wife.

“The laundry is gone!” he gasped and had to restrain himself physically from grabbing Izzy’s shirt and shaking him. 

“What?” Izzy asked.

“The laundry!” 

“Duff?” Izzy squinted at him. “Are you all right?”

The kitchen door opened to reveal Axl and … his Mum. 

“Laundry!” he hissed. 

Izzy cupped Duff’s face with both hands and stared into his eyes. “Axl? I think Duff is not feeling well. Maybe the …. illness … consisted of several … layers.”

“No! I’m all right.” Duff freed himself. “It was in the laundry and Kate took the pile!”

Why did Izzy keep looking at him as if he was going insane instead of joining him in his panic? Shouldn’t they all be running around like headless chickens?

“Oh,” Axl said. “Yes, no problem. You know where they are? In the shop?”

Duff nodded. “Wear the gloves. And if I don’t get it back, you’ll pay for it.”

“Yes! Thanks!”

“What was that about?” he heard Izzy ask while he was off. 

Sally stood next to the counter. She seemed to have covered herself with a cape outside, but now the hood was pushed back. Her feathers rose up as he entered. 

“Hey, Duff! You’ve got my amulet?”

“It’s in the laundry,” he said, thinking that the word ‘laundry’ got totally ridiculous if repeated often enough. Laundry laundry laundry laundry. “But you can have another one until it’s back.”

He snatched his gloves out of the drawer and pulled the box that held the glamour amulets off the shelf.

“Can I pick one?” she asked. 

Duff nodded, knowing that it would likely be an expensive one. He didn’t care if it cost him his wages for the entire next year. The goal was to survive this evening from hell not barter with a harpy about the price of a glamour amulet. 

“You don’t look too good,” Sally inspected the merchandise. “But you’re all the talk of all of Foxhill, you know? How you saved Ella! Whoever thought you didn’t have it in you stands humbly corrected. Even George Pugh admits that it was quite the feat.”

“Hurry up, Sally,” he hissed. Under normal circumstances this kind of praise would be balm for his tormented soul, but right now he couldn’t care less. 

He heard voices in the corridor. His Mum chatting with Axl. Why did those two get along so well? Oh yes, they shared a hobby: turning other people’s life into living hell.

“Come on Sally!” He tapped his foot. 

“Yes, yes.” She fished a silver and blue one with one of her talons and pulled it over her head. “How does it look?”

“Perfect.”

Duff breathed a sigh of relief when she turned into cute, mousy Sally. It was not a second too late The door opened just as he had stored the box back on the shelf. Axl had apparently moved on to torment somebody else because his Mum was on her own. 

“Sally, this is my mother,” Duff said defeated. “Mum, this is Sally Harris. She lives down the street.”

Sally gave him an astonished look, but then she smiled and even curtsied. She had the girl-from-next-door ruse down to a pat. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs McKagan.”

They shook hands and Sally asked all the necessary questions about when she had arrived, how long she was staying while Duff only wished she would leave. 

“I guess I’m off then,” Sally said after a few minutes. “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about, don’t you?” 

“Yes, I’ll see your around,” Duff replied. But his relief was premature. His Mum gave him another shove into the back, and he closed his eyes for the moment. “Mrs Rose is asking if you’d like to stay for dinner,” he said. 

Sally gave him a suspicious look. “Mrs Rose?” she asked, stressing the title. 

Duff tore his eyes wide open and grimaced, hoping Sally would get it. She did. She may be a bitch sometimes, but she was clever. 

“I’m sorry, but my Mum needs my help with the little ones. Maybe next time.” She curtsied again. “It was great meeting you, Mrs McKagan.”

“What a nice girl,” Mrs McKagan said when Sally was off. “And she seems to be good with children. You never mentioned her in your letters.”

“No,” Duff said weakly. From now on she would keep asking for updates about Sally. He could either make them up or pretend she left him for somebody else. Which would lead to his Mum claiming it was because he hadn’t been attentive enough, and that he would never find a girl if he kept behaving like the spoiled baby of the family. As if it was his fault that they had stopped after he was born. 

“You could write more often, too,” she went on. “I thought maybe you were very busy, but I’d say, you get enough free time if you find opportunity to get drunk on a Saturday evening. You could write more often. Which church do you attend?”

“St. Mary’s,” Duff said. He had attended St May’s twice since his arrival in Whittlingsfield. Each time for about five minutes, so it was not a lie. “It’s very far.”

“Yes, this Foxhill seems a bit out of the way, doesn’t it?” 

She eyed the shelves and Duff hoped she wouldn’t spot anything too magical. Or worse, touch. Oh God, if his Mum got bewitched ... He didn’t dare complete the thought. 

“The cab driver was very confused when John told him the address. Mr and Mrs Rose are not catholic, are they?”

“No,” Duff said. 

“They still seem to be good people. You should pray for them.”

“I do.” 

Duff tried to will the headache away. He had almost forgotten about it during the chase for the amulet, but now it returned with maliciousness, pounded behind his eyes and pulsed in his ears. 

“We should return to the kitchen,” he said, but his Mum wasn’t done with inspecting the shop. 

“Axl is an unusual name,” she continued. “I don’t think I have ever heard it.”

“It’s … biblical,” he said. 

“It is?” His Mum seemed to contemplate this. “I don’t think I remember.”

“Yes. One of the wives of King Solomon. There were a lot. You can’t know them all.”

That shut her up. Mrs McKagan was not a supporter of polygamy, not even for King Solomon. 

“Mrs Rose is a remarkable woman,” she continued soon after, but at lest she made moves to leave the shop. “Very resolute, isn’t she?”

“Oh yes!” That at least wasn’t a lie. 

“Mr Rose is a lucky man. A good wife is worth above rubies.”

Mrs McKagan may not be a supporter of King Solomon’s wedding practices, but she did love the Proverb 31 woman. She considered herself as a prime example of one and had reminded Duff regularly that it was his duty to arise up and call her blessed. She was not that wrong because she had toiled endlessly to feed her large family. Duff was grateful for all she had done and was the first to say that his mother was a formidable woman, but right now he wished she was a little less formidable. 

The worst was, Axl would be able to toss the same amount of bible verses right back at her and if that started, there would be bloodshed. He had seen his Mum get into a battle of the bible with Father O’Brian when he had been over for tea once. And she had won. Which had led the priest to mutter something about women who were supposed to stay silent in church. She had returned that it was not the church, but her own kitchen table. Afterwards Duff had been excluded from altar service. Not that he had been sad about it. 

“It’s a pity they don’t have any children.”

Duff chocked on his own saliva and started coughing. 

“It must be a huge disappointment for them. But I have comforted her and told her about Kathleen O’Sullivan. You remember her? She was almost forty when they had a little boy. Nobody had excepted it to happen. She’s still young enough.”

Fainting sounded like a good idea to Duff. Suffocating, too. 

“And Mr Rose would make a good father. He is so quiet and composed. Children like that sort of stability. They seem to love each other dearly. Such an affectionate couple. Do you have a cold, dear?” She patted his back while Duff kept coughing. “You are a bit flushed, do you have a fever?” She touched his forehead. “You are a little hot.”

“No,” he managed to say. “I’m fine.”

He had just been thinking that, yes, Izzy could really be affectionate. Very affectionate. 

Slash had left the kitchen, probably to record Izzy’s attempts at polite conversation for future generations. 

“Didn’t you forget to serve the tea?” Mrs McKagan asked, just when Duff wanted to sit down and resume his potato duty. “Carol made sure it didn’t steep too long. Mrs Rose is right, Duff, you are a bit forgetful in your duties.”

Duff groaned and snatched the tray. 

“And it won’t hurt if you worked on your attitude,” his Mum called after him while she tossed onions into the pan. “A bit more cheerfulness would do you good.”

The library was another disaster area. Axl was holding Izzy’s hand in his and petted it while he chatted away. Izzy’s face had that zoned out expression he got when he was walking foreign planes. If Duff hadn’t known that touching him when he took his trips meant the other person was pulled over, he would have assumed he was paying a visit to some demon dimension. He still checked if his eyes had rolled back into his head, but was relieved to make out the iris under droopy lids. 

Slash perched behind them on the backrest of the couch. John, in an armchair across the room, a glass of whisky in his hands, smiled a little enchanted now and then, but Duff gave it to him: he had his attraction under control. A lot better than Constable Carter who melted away as soon as he was in the same room with Axl. 

Whenever he did get carried away, John looked guilty for a moment, likely wondering what was worse: the impoliteness of lusting after his host’s beautiful wife or that he was pining after another woman before he had managed to take his own wife home. 

“Thanks, Duff,” Axl said when Duff poured the tea. “How about you get us some sandwiches? It’s still a bit time until dinner.”

“Of course,” he grated out between clenched teeth. “Ma’am,” he then added for the hell of it. 

Izzy’s eyes opened fully for a moment and the look he cast Duff screamed ‘get me out of here’ loud enough to wake Hector in the kitchen. 

“I think there is a problem with the … chickens,” he said. 

“Oh?” Izzy asked, suddenly alert. “I’ll better check. Excuse me, my love.” He all but ripped his hand out of Axl’s clutches and fled the room. 

Duff followed. He had barely closed the door when Izzy threw himself into his arms and buried his face against his shoulder. 

“Save me,” he sobbed. “Really, Duff, I can’t! You have no idea what Axl is talking about. He asked me whom of the Butterfield twins I thought was prettier. And that it was a pity we didn’t have children and shouldn’t we try harder? How did he even get these ideas?”

Duff knew, but considered it unwise to inform Izzy about the source. 

“And whether I preferred his yellow silk dress or the blue cotton one. And this … this … poor besotted oaf is hanging on to his lips as if pearls and diamonds are dropping off them.”

“Hush.” Duff petted his head. Izzy had very nice hair whenever it was not crusty with monster slime. All soft and silky, and he wanted to run both hands through it. And as they were alone for the moment, he did. “It’s only one day. You can survive one day.”

“No, I can’t,” Izzy said. He looked up and Duff pressed a quick kiss onto his lips. 

“I promise,” he said, because after he had already pawned off his wages for an entire year, selling his soul sounded like a small price to get out of this alive, “you can use magic on me. During sex. But you have to keep it together!”

“I can?” Izzy asked, suddenly a lot less desperate. 

Duff nodded. 

“Any which way I want?” There was a spark in Izzy’s eyes that made him swallow. And now he started to smile the way he did when he got one of his more insane ideas. Great. He had handed free range of motion to somebody who was half fea. 

“Any which way you want,” Duff confirmed nevertheless. 

“Until you howl my name in ecstasy?” 

“Yes.” Duff’s unease grew, but it was too late to go back on it. “Maybe wait until we have the house to ourselves?”

Izzy wiped the objection away with a swipe of his hand. “Nah, Axl deserves retribution. But you better go and make those sandwiches. He likes them with cut up pickles on top. All neatly arranged.”

Duff rolled his eyes. “Look after the chickens,” he said. 

Axl kept him busy with requests. He was running back and forward between kitchen and library until his feet hurt. At least Izzy did his best to earn his reward and played dutiful host which caused Axl to cast suspicious glances between them whenever they were in the same room. 

At dinnertime, Duff was ready to collapse. The food smelled great, the table was set with Miss Agatha’s china instead of their usual dishes, and he feared the moment Axl and his Mum would again be in the same room. 

Izzy steered into the direction of his usual place on the bench, but Axl caught him with a firm grip around his waist and pushed him towards the chair at the top of the table. Right, head of the household, Duff thought. Which normally was Axl. At least they didn’t have any meat for him to carve. Izzy would likely have used the sword to do it. 

It turned out a lot less horrible than Duff had feared. They didn’t have guests often, but Axl was flourishing in his role as hostess. Why didn’t they ever have company? Sure, Slash and Izzy weren’t of the gregarious type, but Axl clearly enjoyed the attention. 

Duff ladled soup onto everybody’s plates and some into a bowl he placed on the floor for Slash. Axl and his Mum chatted about this and that while Izzy looked … pale. Duff’s hand stopped mid-air, soup dripping off his spoon as he watched Izzy sway, then his eyes rolled back, and he fell face forward onto his plate. 

“Izzy!” he yelped and dropped his spoon. His knees banged against the table as he jumped up. Plates clattered, soup spilled, but Axl was there to intercept him before he could reach Izzy. 

“Don’t touch him!” Axl snapped and caught his arm before he could do exactly that. “You’ll get pulled over.” He turned his eyes towards the ceiling. “Really, Ashwin, now?” he yelled. “What is it with timing in this house?”

“We’ve got to get him out of the soup!” Duff yelled. “He’ll drown!” 

Axl looked torn, but grabbed his arms more firmly when he tried again to reach for Izzy.

“Nobody touches him!” Axl roared when Carol made moves to do the same. “Everybody stay put!”

“But he’ll drown!” Duff insisted. “Use the … the … levitation.”

“I can’t!” Axl said. “If I hit him with magic that might separate the spirit from the body for good.”

He was just about to yell that he didn’t care, that he didn’t mind if Izzy pulled him into a demon dimension or wherever he was, when he caught movement out of the wink of his eye. Slash appeared next to Izzy’s chair, shifted into human form and without touching him pulled the plate out from under his face.

“Really,” he said. “Isn’t there anybody in this house who’s capable of practical thinking?” Then he looked sheepishly at all the open-mouthed stares from Duff’s family. “Hi.” He waved a little awkwardly. “I’m Slash.”

Duff knew he should worry about a lot of things. For example, what his Mum would say. If anybody was having a heart attack. Or ran out of the house screaming. But all he could worry about was Izzy. He knelt down next to him, wringing his hands, but careful not to touch. 

“I suppose it’s too late to pretend that Izzy is suffering from epilepsy, is it?” Axl asked into the round. 

“Should I shift back?” Slash whispered, and Axl rolled his eyes. 

John had put an arm around Carol and pulled her towards himself, ready to protect her with his life and the spoon in his hand. Mrs McKagan was thunderstruck. 

“Duff!” she said sternly. “Would you explain this to me?”

Duff sobbed. “A vampire lord has pulled Izzy into a demon dimension because there are people rising from the dead and we don’t know why, but the vampire lord may know because he’s a demon himself and Izzy has to stop it somehow because he’s the wizard of Foxhill and it’s his job and Slash is a shapeshifter but he prefers to be a cat and …”

“It’s not a demon dimension!” Axl interrupted him. “It’s … no idea which one, but the amulet limits his choices. How incompetent do you think I am?” He knelt down next to him, not caring about his pretty blue dress. “It’ll be all right. Hey.” He wrapped an arm around his shoulder and shook him softly. “Izzy does this all the time. He always comes back.”

“But the last time he didn’t … didn’t … fall forward. I mean he was sitting upright and …”

“… getting frostbite. Yes, I remember. That’s because last time he did the calling. Gave him more control. Now he is called. That caught him by surprise. Still. So far all is normal.”

“Normal?” Duff heard his Mum say. “This is normal?”

He looked up. She had recovered from her shock. One didn’t raise eight McKagan children without being able to recover from shock in a heartbeat.

“Pretty much, yes,” Duff stood up. “They are all … magical people.”

“I noticed,” she said, still frowning. 

“But they are all really good people. They took me up when nobody would.”

“I noticed that, too.” She shook her head and heaved a loud sigh. “This …,” she pointed at Izzy. “Will take longer?”

“Probably,” Axl said. “Depends on how much they have to discuss.”

“In that case,” Mrs McKagan stood up, “we should eat. There is no sense in letting good food go to waste.” She eyed Slash. “Wouldn’t it be more comfortable for you to sit at the table, too, Mr … Slash? Really, Duff, why did you serve him on the floor?”

Duff considered to either get the heart attack or run screaming down the street himself, but then he decided to fetch another set of plates and cutlery. His Mum took it upon herself to serve the food, but Duff didn’t feel hungry. He kept watching Izzy who lay on the table, face hidden under his hair, but breathing steadily at least. 

They had proceded to dessert … preserved plums over rice pudding, when Izzy groaned. He didn’t sit up, just moved his arms over his head and groaned some more. Duff jumped again, but this time everybody was fast enough to save their dishes. 

“Izzy!” he reached for his shoulders and pulled him upright. 

Izzy swayed a little, his head lolled, but then he opened his eyes. 

“Duff?” He sighed and his lids fluttered. His nose twitched, and he pulled his lips back and forward and smacked his tongue as if trying to get rid of an unpleasant taste. “Why am I …” he touched his face and looked confused at his sticky fingers. 

“You fell into the soup.” Duff fetched a damp towel and started cleaning his face. “Really, Izzy, that was totally stupid.”

“Just what I said, but nobody wanted to listen to me,” Axl said. 

Duff ignored him. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Izzy took the towel out of his hand and wiped his face. “He didn’t show.” 

“What?” Now Axl stood up, too. 

“He…oh,” Izzy stared at the current company, only now remembering that they had guests. He cast Duff a panicked look. 

Duff shrugged. 

“What do you mean he didn’t show?” Axl asked. 

“He sent a negotiator. But maybe we should discuss this some other time?”

Axl sat down and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “If you say so.”

“You’re really all right?” Duff asked. Izzy looked pale. Was it possible for a vampire to suck blood out of a spirit?

“I am. Stop worrying.” He ruffled Duff’s hair and Duff knew that he would have hugged and maybe even kissed him if they had been alone. 

“I’m sorry,” Izzy said when he noticed that everybody was still staring at him. “I guess I … ruined dinner.”

“From what I understand,” Mrs McKagan said, “ it was this vampire lord who ruined dinner.”

Izzy shrugged. “Kind of.”

Mrs McKagan sighed. “Would you like some dessert, Mr Rose? I’m afraid everything else is already gone.”


	15. Sapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of an interlude before we move on to the next chapter.

It was late when Duff hugged Carol good-bye. It had taken the poor man a bit to overcome his initial shock, but in the end, he had been excited about the novelty of the situation. While shaking everybody’s hands, he had assured them that, should they ever need legal assistance, he would be there for them. 

Izzy, Axl and Slash had retreated after taking their leave, to allow him some final minutes with his family, and when his Mum now sent his sister and her husband ahead to the cab, Duff knew he was in for a thorough scolding. 

They were still in the shop where Mrs McKagan cast another curious look at all the merchandise. 

“Better don’t touch anything,” Duff said. “Really, it’s … not a good idea.”

She looked at him and Duff squirmed under her gaze. Then she sighed and beckoned him over. 

“I’m not going to get any grandchildren from you, will I?”

“You … what?” Duff had expected berating for lying and maybe for living at a place that wasn’t exactly safe, but this? “No,” he then said. “I’m sorry.” He wrapped his hands around each other. “Was it that obvious?”

“Oh Duff, dear,” she reached up and he bowed down so that she could hug him. “You’re such a stupid boy sometimes. And so in love, hm?” 

His Mum dislodged herself, but not without brushing a hand over his cheek. She shook her head. 

“Oh well. It doesn’t come as a surprise, does it?”

“It doesn’t?” Duff stuttered. 

She smiled. “Remember your Uncle Sean? No, of course not.”

“He died before I was born,” he said. There wasn’t much he knew about his mother’s younger brother. “It was a hunting accident.”

She sighed again. “It wasn’t. He killed himself. But everybody involved was kind enough to make it look like an accident to avoid the scandal. Which involved another young man.”

“That’s … I didn’t know.” He thought about hugging her again. She seemed so sad, all of a sudden. 

“You may look like your father, Duff, but you’ve always been a lot like Sean. And when you started growing up and I saw how you watched boys sometimes … “

Duff closed his mouth which had fallen open. 

“Would I like to see you settle down with a nice girl like Sally?” she continued.

“She’s a harpy, Mum. Literally. “

“But a well behaved one.”

If she wasn’t hacking her talons into lycanthropes, she was. 

“What I wanted to say is, life would be easier for you if a wife and children were what you wished for. But I saw the harm it can do when a person is pressured into being somebody they are not. You are my son, Duff. First and foremost, I want you to be happy. Are you happy?”

He nodded.

“Then everything is fine, isn’t it? But I swear,” she took him by his shoulders and shook him, “if you ever lie to me like that ever again, you will find out that you will never be too old for me to bend you over my knee.”

“I won’t,” Duff quickly said. 

She gave him a firm look that made clear that she didn’t believe him. “I should … this charade… and they all played along!” 

“They are good people,” he said a little sheepishly. 

“That’s debatable. But they do care deeply about you. Come here.” She hugged him again. “You’ve got to visit us sometime.”

“I would love to.” Duff wrapped his arms around his mother. Had she always been so small? In his memory she was a giant. 

“Then do it. Bring your wizard. And don’t forget to write. I want to know what became out of this vampire lord and the people rising from the dead. I expect details about all this craziness you’re up to.”

“I’ll write,” he promised. Then he helped her into the carriage and waved. 

“What a disaster, huh?” Axl said when Duff joined the others in the library. Slash, still human, sat next to him on the couch, head lying on his shoulder. “Maybe we should give up on this playing pretend all the time. It always ends in calamity. And if I have to be Izzy’s wife one more time …”

“You make an awesome couple,” Duff said. “You may nag and grouse, but you’re so comfortable around each other that it’s absolutely believable. Every time you do it.”

For unknown reasons it never made him envious to see the two of them like that. He just wished that one day he and Izzy would reach the same level of compatibility. 

Izzy, wearing a shirt free of soup stains, was still pale and swirled whisky around his glass. 

“We waited for you.” He pointed at the free chair, but instead Duff went over to him and perched on his armrest. 

“Are you all right?” he asked and touched his cheek. It felt a bit cooler than in should. 

Izzy nodded. “Separating the spirit from the body is draining, that’s all.” He brushed his fingers against the seam of Duff’s trousers. 

“Right,” Axl said. “Duff is here, now spill.”

Izzy emptied his glass, but instead of putting it away, he turned it around in his hands. “As I already said, Ashwin didn’t show, but he sent a negotiator.”

“Why?” Axl folded his hands in his lap, and he developed the usual determined streak around his mouth. He wouldn’t be content with anything but a full explanation. 

Izzy shrugged. “No idea. Maybe he expected an ambush.” 

“Makes no sense,” Slash said, his head still on Axl’s shoulder. “That’s the whole reason for taking it to another dimension because you can’t ambush him. And he can’t ambush you.”

“I know.” Izzy shifted until his head rested against Duff’s side. 

Usually, Izzy wasn’t this affectionate in public, not even around Slash and Axl. Duff was so surprised by the sudden touch of intimacy that he almost felt for fever again. But they were all drained and tired after the last days. Maybe it was too much effort for Izzy to deny himself his creature comforts. To test the theory, Duff touched his hair and Izzy let him. 

“Maybe he thinks I can. Or maybe he is not good at negotiating himself. End of story, he agreed to a meeting in person.”

“What?” Duff squeaked. “You’re not going!”

“Under armistice, of course.” Izzy peered up at him. “I’m not that stupid, Duff.”

“Yes, but you don’t believe him!” Duff said because nobody would believe a vampire. “Oh God, you do!”

“It’s one of the laws we have,” Axl said. “If you declare armistice for a certain period, you stick to it. Ashwin will, too.”

He pushed Slash away, who sat up and brushed his curls out of his face. 

“You’re kidding me!” Duff’s fingers pulled involuntarily at Izzy’s hair until he freed his head out of his grip. “Tell me this is all a big joke.”

Axl shook his head. “For how long?”

“Twenty-four hour before start and after end of the meeting,” Izzy leant against the backrest and closed his eyes. There were creases around them Duff had never noticed before. 

“That’s reasonable,” Axl said. “Where?”

“He’s got somebody near Crayton who will … facilitate the neotiations.”

“Great,” Duff said. “But you’re not going.”

Izzy opened his eyes a little. “I asked for the meeting, Duff. Would look bad if I didn’t show.”

“Would look worse if you ended drained on the floor of some … some … whatever this place is.”

“Crayton is less then twenty-four hours from Foxhill,” Axl said. “It’s actually a good meeting place because we will be home before the armistice is over.”

“You really believe this?” Duff asked. Wasn’t Axl their voice of reason? The person to warn them off Izzy’s stupid plans? The one who only ever gave in grudgingly and said “told you so” as soon as one of them fell face forward into the soup?

Axl pulled a face. “Do I believe it? Yes. Do I like it? No. Will it be without danger? No. Is it worth the risk? I suppose so. Depending on the price. What does he want?”

“A pint,” Izzy said. 

“Hm,” Axl made. “You should have gotten him down to a half. But you didn’t try, did you? Just accepted the first request.”

Izzy shrugged. “I had other things on my mind. And I was drowning in soup, remember?”

“Which you weren’t aware of.” Axl sighed. “All right, a pint.”

“Pint of what?” Duff asked, although he knew. 

“Blood, of course,” Slash said. “Wizard blood. Full-bodied, potent, impossible to come by.”

Axl eyed Izzy suspiciously. “That’s not all,” he said. “What else does he want?”

“Nothing else,” Izzy interlaced his hands around the glass. “Just the blood.”

“Izzy!” Axl tapped a finger onto the armrest. 

“I … agreed that he would get it on tap.”

“No!” Axl exclaimed. 

“Oh, come on.” Izzy put the glass onto the table and rested his elbows on his knees. “It’s not that bad.”

“It is! You’ll have no control.”

“Which is why I’ll need you there.” Izzy gave him a pleading look. “To have an eye on everything.”

“Izzy!” Axl groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Will you come?” Izzy asked, voice stern. “I need to know.”

“Of course I will come,” Axl replied. “To keep you from doing it.”

“Would somebody explain this to me?” Duff asked. He should be happy that Axl was now about as exasperated as he felt, but not knowing why left him a tad unsettled. 

“Izzy,” Axl said and pointed an accusing finger at the culprit, “could just have agreed to handing over a pint glass full of blood. Which is more than any information about necromancy is worth, but who am I to criticize his generosity? But our resident dimwit here agreed to have Ashwin take it directly from the vein.”

Duff swallowed. “You think this is a good idea?” he asked softly. 

“No!” Axl yelled. “Nobody thinks this is a good idea.”

“I want a bit more than just information about necromancy,” Izzy said. He sounded tired, which was his only saving grace or else Duff would have yelled at him, too. “I want to settle the whole Whittlingsfield situation one and for all. This … this guerrilla attacks have to stop. If I get Ashwin to put down his foot…”

“Ashwin could have put down his foot ages ago,” Axl snapped. “He doesn’t care.”

Izzy leant back again and once more closed his eyes for a bit too long. “Duff suggested that we talk to the council. Set up some type of militia for Foxhill.”

Axl startled. “You were always against projects like that.”

“I am,” Izzy replied. “Still am. Because it will get people killed. But Duff thinks, it’s their decision to get killed or not, so … I agreed. Under the precondition that everybody knows what they are getting into and nobody is pressed against their will.”

“And also, by telling them that we’re not able to keep things under control without assistance,” Duff said. “So that they’ll know, if they want to make sure that nobody picks their children off the street, they can’t only rely on Izzy.”

Axl looked flabbergasted for a moment, but then he pulled his lips into a grin. “Well done, Duff. You did follow my advice, huh?”

“Which advice?” Izzy asked and looked up at him. 

“Nothing,” Duff quickly said. But he had put a gun against Izzy’s head, and he had been ready to pull the trigger. “This meeting, when is it going to happen? And how much time do we have before to organize … everything?”

“I’ll get a message,” Izzy said. “But it should at least be a week or so. Enough time for a few things. For example, I have to talk to Giles first. I need a better idea about the course of events, when he’s seen the victims, not only for the last time but also how often, who has been around them, who else they might have encountered in the surgery, like assisting staff, household servants, et cetera. It will also take a few days for the council to call in a town hall meeting and we need to find somebody who can talk and explain because … I’m not the right choice. And Duff isn’t either because he’s too new and not really one of us. Sorry, Duff.” 

“It’s all right,” Duff said. He wouldn’t be ‘one of them’ for a long time, maybe never, as for him it would always be possible to up and leave if things got too dire. 

Axl sighed. “I guess that’s me, huh?”

“If you don’t mind.” Izzy cast him an apologetic look. “You would be the best choice. People know you and they respect you.”

“Yes, yes, stop buttering me up. I’ll do it. Still, Izzy. You can’t have Ashwin feed from the vein.”

“I agreed, Axl,” Izzy replied. “Going back on it would kick everything off the wrong way. If we manage to come to some kind of treaty, it would be worth the risk. You know that.”

Axl crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at the wall. 

“What are the risks?” Duff asked. “That he tries to drain you?”

Izzy rubbed his neck. “Yes, but that’s not the biggest issue. A vampire of that age and position has enough control over his feeding instincts to stop. Probably after he has taken a pint up to exactly the last ounce. And if not, that’s why I want Axl along. To clobber him over the head in case he gets carried away.”

“I will clobber you over the head if you offer yourself up like that,” Axl said without looking at anybody. 

“Then what…” 

Izzy pursed his mouth, clearly not happy with providing more information. “Vampires don’t only take, they also give. They inject their poison into the wound.”

“Will it turn you?” Duff asked upset. 

Izzy chuckled. “No, don’t worry. Vampire poison is not very well understood. It makes you pliant, so that will likely happen to me. Which is why it will be the very last step at the very end of the meeting. Some survivors report different effects, but nothing consistent. Euphoria is sometimes mentioned. Fear, although rarely. But some vampires seem to like the taste it gives the blood. In general, it is considered to feel good. Very good. Positive emotions seem to prevail.”

“It is addictive,” Axl said. “Not a good idea for somebody who has history with addictions.”

“Addictive?” 

Duff’s gaze shifted from one wizard to the other. Axl was still staring at the wall, forehead in wrinkles, mouth drawn into a firm line, refusing to grant Izzy as much as a look. Izzy was chewing on his lip, pulling it between his teeth and letting it plop out as if he couldn’t make up his mind where he wanted it to be. 

“Worse than opium,” Axl said. 

“You mean, people get addicted to having a vampire feed off them?” That sounded like a dangerous habit to have.

“Not that many,” Izzy said. “Usually, they are dead before the addiction gets a firm hold. But, yes, some people who escaped went later back for more. Most of the minions probably develop a feeding-addiction, too, in addition to having their brains rearranged.”

“You knew this and you agreed?” Duff asked. 

Izzy rubbed both hands over his face before he looked up at him. His eyes were soft and a little pleading. “You wanted me to find a solution, Duff. One that didn’t involve … certain methods. I thought, if you are so against violence that only leaves diplomacy. But therefore, I need to get Ashwin to sit down at the same table with me, which he won’t if I don’t offer him something and …,” he shrugged, “this is what I have to offer.”

“Awesome,” Axl said and Duff wished he would shut up. “This is the result of a lovers’ spat? Awesome.”

Izzy’s picked at his cuticles, until Duff couldn’t watch anymore. He took his hand in his and held it still.

“After this, if you notice at any time, any … desire to go and find a vampire and get bitten, you will tell me.”

“I …”

“Promise, Izzy,” Duff squeezed his fingers. “No secret agonizing over stuff or trying to deaden the need with other means like … laudanum or whatever. Nobody will blame you or yell at you or,” he gave Axl a stern look, “tell you they told you right away.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. “I promise.” He leant his head against Duff’s side. 

“He’s got you really pussy-whipped,” Axl said slightly mollified. “Not that I object. It’s a good look on you. Very becoming.”

Izzy turned his head without sitting up. “You’re the one with the pussy,” he said and pointed at Slash. 

“Right,” Axl stood up. “It’s late, I’m tired, this day was a disaster. You two sort out … whatever needs sorting out. How to address the council, for a start. And tomorrow we have to have a look at who cursed Duff. I can’t believe that we have almost forgotten about that little incident. In the meanwhile,” he pulled at Slash’s arm, “I’ll take my pussy and go to bed.”

Slash raised his eyebrows. “Both pussies?”

Duff choked on a giggle while Izzy snorted and pressed his face against his hip. 

“Oh God.” Axl rolled his eyes. “The intellectual stimulation in this house has reached a new low.”

Then he took … both his pussies … and left them alone. 

“We should go, too,” Duff said, when they were done amusing themselves. “I gave you a promise, I think.” He was tired, yes, but he wasn’t averse to a bit of relaxing distraction. Or distracting relaxation.

“Oh yes, you did,” Izzy smirked up at him. “But I don’t remember setting a timeline.”

“A what?” he asked puzzled. 

Izzy grin widened. “Every which way I want, were the terms. Our kind takes agreements like that very serious, as you may have noticed. That includes when, why, how, whatever. And … I don’t have to warn you in advance.”

“I…,” Fae, Duff realized. He had given an open promise to a fae. 

“One of these days, Duff,” Izzy said and pressed a kiss to his hipbone, “I will take you apart. That I can promise. And when it will happen, you will beg me for more of the same. For the rest of your life.”

“Bastard,” Duff said, but his voice was soft. “Have it your way.”

Izzy squinted at him. “You’re not angry?” His tongue flicked over his lover lip. He had expected to get some type of ethical berating about bewitching people without asking for consent. 

“No,” Duff said. “You’re right. I agreed. My kind takes promises very serious, too. And I trust you.” He stood up and extended his hand. “Doesn’t release you from your duties tonight. If you can still get it up without magic after all that dimension hopping. If not, I’ll give you a pass. Maybe you’re sapped. It’s not that easy at your age.”

Izzy’s eyes widened and he was out of his armchair so fast that Duff squeaked in shock as he was tackled and pushed against the door. Izzy forced a knee between his legs and moved it slowly, slowly up until it had nowhere left to go. 

“With age comes experience,” he growled against his mouth. “And finesse and stamina and skill.”

“Yes?” Duff asked. 

Izzy used the reply to push his tongue in. Duff closed his eyes and surrendered. He tasted whisky and Izzy and something else. Something foreign. 

“Yes,” he said when he pulled back. 

“Then what do you need magic for?” Duff ran his hands through Izzy’s hair, wondering idly if they would make it to bed or do the unspeakable right here. 

“I don’t,” he nipped at his collarbone. Duff moved his head to the side to give better access. “But when I’ll do, it will blow you away. Until then, however,” he came up grabbed Duff’s chin, and forced him to meet his eyes. “You will be the one doing the blowing. For sentencing me to a day of torture.”

Duff wanted to argue that this was not part of the negotiated price, but he did agree that Izzy deserved some type of impromptu reward for the effort he had put in all evening. Ashwin’s bad timing wasn’t his fault.

“I’ll do what I can to soothe whatever battle wounds needs soothing,” he whispered. “I assume there are a lot?”

“Really a lot,” Izzy said.

He let go off Duff’s chin and reached for the doorhandle.


	16. Obsessed

Nobody felt like working, but it was Monday morning and the shop had to open. After breakfast, Izzy prepared for a trip to the council to explain their ideas, and Duff was left behind once more. He had suggested coming along, but Izzy had shaken his head. 

“I’m sorry, Duff, but …”

“Yes, I know,” Duff had replied. “Not one of you, yet.”

“You are,” Izzy had said and kissed him. “But people learn slowly.”

Now he tended to the shop with Axl, male, dressed in one of his embroidered waistcoats, while Hector snored in his basket and Slash snoozed away in the library. 

“All right,” Axl said when the crowd of early morning customers had gone on their merry way, and they had a moment to breathe. “Let’s solve the riddle of the cursed shilling.”

Curiously, Duff joined him at the counter. Axl pulled one of the older ledgers out of storage, the one that listed each and every item sold on any specific day. 

“It was the day after you came back from Horley.” He tucked hair behind his ear and leafed through the pages until he had found the desired entries. “Was a rather dull day, so hopefully you remember the transactions.” 

Duff stepped up next to him and peered over his shoulder. He winced at his own clumsy handwriting between Axl’s neat cursive. His reading skills were developing beyond what he had ever thought possible. Entire novels no longer posed a threat but provided fun and entertainment. He shuddered when he thought about the last one. A man had created monsters from corpses by sewing body parts together and shocking them with electricity. It was a bit too close to what they were dealing with, but he had been unable to put it away. 

“You handled three clients that day.” Axl pointed at one entry after the other. “Mrs Jones, Mr Grant, and Sally. Do you have an idea who might have paid with a shilling?”

Duff rummaged through his brain in an attempt to recall the events of the day. Sally and her chilies, followed by Izzy’s asininity shone in an exceptionally bright light, oh yes, but he couldn’t say how she had paid. 

“Mrs Jones always pays with a million single pennies,” he said. 

The old woman made him groan inwardly whenever she entered because she usually showed up in the middle of the rush hour and crammed one penny after the other out of her huge handbag. Then she counted them three times to ensure she wouldn’t hand over one too much, only to come away two pennies short. And then the cramming and counting would go into the next round. 

“I’m pretty sure she did that day, too.” He looked at the entry, the long list of items she had bought. “Yes, I think I remember. Took me half an eternity to count all the coins. And Mr Grant had a guinea. I kind of stared at it.” 

It had been embarrassing, but their customers didn’t pay with guineas. He had been burning to know how Mr Grant had managed to get hold of one but hadn’t asked, of course. Mr Grant hadn’t minded the staring. He had countered it with a smug grin. Until Duff had added all of Mrs Jones’ pennies to the change, that had wiped the smirk off his face. 

“That leaves Sally,” Axl said. 

“No,” Duff replied. “Sally wouldn’t do that to me.”

She wouldn’t. Or would she? What for? She had no reason at all. 

Axl shrugged. “Money is tight for the Harris’ family. Always has been. They breed faster than they can gather food. If somebody paid her? Maybe without telling her in detail what she was supposed to do?”

“Izzy said the spell was subliminal!” Duff said. “She might have gotten the shilling without realizing what it was.”

Axl cocked his head to the side. “And pay you of all people with it? What are the odds?” 

Duff stared back stubbornly. He refused to believe that Sally would hurt him. It was weird to be so sure about anything when over the last weeks he had hatched one paranoid idea after the next. Looking back, it was all so obvious, but only now, that he felt the difference, did he realize in what type of haze he had existed. Somebody had pulled a veil over his eyes, and he hadn’t noticed that he was seeing the world though gauze until Izzy and Axl had torn it to shreds. 

“Come on,” Axl closed the ledger. “Let’s pay her a visit.”

“Now?” Duff asked. “What about the shop?”

Axl pulled a sign out from under the counter that read “Closed due to Emergency.” 

“This happens often enough that you have a sign for it?” he asked, not sure if he should be amused or upset. 

Axl snorted. “With Izzy around? Sure.” 

Axl fetched coat and boots from the corridor and Duff followed suit. 

“Sally will be at the bakery,” he said when Axl automatically took the route towards the Harris’ house. 

A constant pelting of icy raindrops into his face caused him to put up his collar and pull the hat downwards. April was around the corner, but March made no moves to go any easier on them. 

Dull felt for her amulet in his pocket. Kate had returned it in the morning, so at least he wouldn’t have to splurge for the new one. But right now, he would gladly pay if it meant that Sally wasn’t involved in this affair. 

Most shops in Foxhill were located along Stakesby Road, and the bakery was close to the public pump. It was almost noon, people were buying lunch, and quite a few customers grumbled annoyed when Axl pushed his way through to the front. Duff remained at the door, unsure what he was supposed to do. They could just as well have waited until the shop was closed instead of turning everything into a spectacle. 

“Rob?” Axl said to the baker without caring that he was wrapping up a loaf of bread for a woman. “I need to borrow Sally for a moment.”

“What, now?” Rob, the baker gave him an incredulous look while he pointed at the crowd. 

“Won’t take long. And you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

Rob sighed, but then he yelled for Sally. She came out of the bakehouse, an apron over her dress, and wiped flour off her hands. 

“Yes?” she said. “Need me to help here?”

“No.” He moved his chin into Axl’s direction. “Five minutes. I can’t spare her for longer.”

“If it takes that long.” Axl made a beckoning motion with his hand, and without trying to hide her confusion, Sally followed him outside. 

“Hey,” Duff said. “I’ve got your amulet.”

“That’s why you came?” She fiddled her own out from under her blouse, and they swapped. Axl took the new one and stuffed it into his pocket. “And that’s why we’ve got to stand around in the rain?” She hugged herself against the cold and fidgeted on one leg. 

“When you came to the shop to buy chilies,” Axl started without preamble. “That day you asked Duff out for equinox.”

“Yes?” Sally looked cautiously from one of them to the other. 

“I need to know what happened. To the last detail. Who came up with that idea, who made the plan, what did it involve? Everything.”

“Is Mr Stradlin angry?” she chewed her lip and hugged herself tighter. “I didn’t mean to stir any trouble, really not. And the vampires … I couldn’t expect that. I told Duff to stay out of the fight with George Pugh, but I didn’t know there were vampires or that he would run after them or …”

Axl stopped her with an abrupt wave of his hand. “It’s not about the vampires. I told you what I need to know, so tell me.”

Sally sighed. Her eyes flickered again into Duff’s direction, asking for an explanation. 

“I had this idea to ask Duff out,” she said. “Not to get between … you know. Just because …. Anyway, I wasn’t sure how. Most guys think you’re too … you know … forward if you ask them.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Whom did you tell?” Duff asked, ignoring all questions of male-female-equinox-invitation-etiquette. 

Sally shrugged. “Ella knew. She’s my best friend, after all. But she thought it was mean. She was afraid it might stir trouble between you and Mr … anyway. Then a few of my siblings.”

“Which ones?” Axl tapped his foot. 

“I don’t know. I might have mentioned it a few times. You never know who is around and who has their ears open. Anyway, Bessie said, I might try to corner him while buying some spices because it’s mainly Duff who is selling the spices these days. So, I should check he’s in and that the shop is empty and then buy something small.”

“Bessie?” Duff asked. That didn’t make sense. Bessie liked Izzy more than was good for her. She wouldn’t try to kill him. 

“Yes, Bessie.” Sally rubbed a foot against her leg. “I said something like ‘good idea, but I don’t have any money to buy anything.’ Because I had just bought the dress. You know? The blue one. It got torn in the fight. I should send the invoice to George Pugh.”

Duff nodded.

“Come on, Sally!” Axl’s foot tapped faster. “Stay on topic.” 

“Bessie said, she was my big sister and she would lend me some.”

“What did she give you?” Axl asked. 

“A shilling. Why?” 

“All right, thank you, Sally.” Axl pointed into the shop. “I guess our five minutes are over. Rob is glaring at us. Looks like he’s getting impatient.”

Duff barely managed a halfway polite goodbye when Axl grabbed his arm and pulled him up the road.

“But … what was this all about?” Sally called after them. Then she threw her arms into the air in exasperation and vanished inside the shop. 

“Bessie makes no sense,” Duff repeated his earlier train of thoughts. “She would not want to kill Izzy.”

“But she might want to stir trouble,” Axl said without stopping. Face determined, hair flying behind him, he marched into the direction of the Harris house. “Maybe she had no idea what she was really doing. She’s a harpy and she might not understand spells well. Which is a whole lot of benefit of the doubt she’s getting from me and only because she is Sally’s sister.”

“She doesn’t even know about me and Izzy,” Duff said. Nobody knew. Or very few people, if he was honest. 

“If Sally found out, then Bessie will know, too. She is eighteen, Duff, she discovers a secret, she’ll cash it in for a chat with her friends. And you heard her. Sally likes a bit of gossip, and she won’t be able to keep anything from her gaggle of siblings.”

Duff fell silent. What did he know about Bessie? She was pretty, yes, but unlike Sally, she was a bit shy and insecure in her interactions. She helped around the house, took care of the young ones, didn’t go out much. The typical eldest daughter of a large family. But she was always polite when she came into the shop. 

The Harris family didn’t live far and it took them hardly ten minutes to reach the house. It was located in one of the smaller alleys, less run-down than some of the other back corners Foxhill had to offer, but far from noble. Plaster crumbled around the lintel and the window frames were in urgent need of a coat of paint. 

Axl hammered against the door. When a small boy poked his head outside, he stated his request to see Bessie. The boy closed the door into their faces, and they waited until one of the older girls opened again and apologized for her little brother. 

“With the vampires around, we tell them to not allow anybody over the threshold,” she said and showed them into the kitchen. 

“Good,” Axl said, and she smiled. 

The kitchen, like the entire house, was small and cramped. The ubiquitous pot of stew simmered on the hearth and the girl, Clara, if Duff wasn’t mistaken, made them tea and offered them the bench at the table. Bessie appeared a few minutes later and Clara left them alone. 

“You gave Sally a cursed shilling,” Axl said without warning. 

Bessie made a step back, ready to flee the kitchen, but Duff blocked the door. Axl stood up anger radiating off of him in palpable waves. Bessie surely felt it too because she pressed herself against one of the cabinets. 

“You told her to give it to Duff. You knew it would not discharge for a magical person, but you were well aware of what it would do to somebody like him.”

“I …,” Bessie stuttered. 

“Don’t bother to deny it,” Axl continued without giving her a second to catch her breath. “We both know you did, so we’ll just skip this part where you’re professing your innocence and I waste my time getting you to confess. I want to know why you did it, and more importantly, how you got it. Because there is no way in hell that a sorry excuse of a harpy like you manages to manufacture such a masterpiece.”

“I didn’t mean …,” she looked at Duff, but her eyes quickly returned to Axl. She knew where the true danger lay. “I only wanted …”

“Wanted to kill Izzy,” Axl said. He clenched his fists.

“No!” 

She looked a little wild-eyed to Duff, as if she was still gauging her flight options. Or considered an attack. She was a harpy, after all, and under the glamour possessed the same sharp talons Sally used in a fight. 

“I would never want to … it was supposed to make Duff … not love him anymore.” The last few words were uttered so lowly, they were almost inaudible. “He doesn’t belong here,” she then said firmly. “He isn’t one of us.”

“And you are the one to decide that since … when?” Axl asked. But his hands relaxed a little. He squinted at her, as if trying to assess something he couldn’t see clearly. 

The whole affair didn’t make the slightest sense, Duff thought. He hadn’t pinched her boyfriend. Izzy and Bessie can’t have exchanged more than half a dozen sentences since his appearance in Foxhill. 

“But you’re courting,” he said. “What do you even care about me and Izzy?”

Bessie gave him a confused look. “What’s got one to do with the other?” 

“Are you really asking that?” he asked back. “This man you’re courting, who is he? Sally said he moved into the neighbourhood.”

“Oh really?” Axl cocked his head, still squinting. “And of all the beauties in Foxhill, he picked up the old maid who couldn’t take her eyes off our highly coveted wizard?”

“It’s not like that,” Bessie said. “Jacob loves me.”

“I’m sure he does,” Duff said. “He doesn’t live in Whittlingsfield, right? Doesn’t have to be assessed by the administration?”

“Turnham,” Bessie said. It was the next village over and not part of Whittlingsfield’s jurisdiction. Her eyes sparkled, now that she was allowed to talk about a topic she liked, the previous uproar forgotten. If that wasn’t a spell, then Duff would voluntarily clean Hector’s poop out of the yard for the next month. “He was away for work and only just returned.”

“Work where?” Axl asked. 

“Horley,” she said. “It’s…”

“I know where that is. Let me guess. This brilliant idea of slipping Duff a cursed shilling? That was Jacob.”

“He wanted to help me. Because he loves me. We’re going to marry.”

Axl nodded. “I’m sure you will.” 

His voice now had the same calm, soothing timbre he had used when convincing Duff that he really had to have his aura analysed. Duff almost blushed in embarrassment when he thought about that morning. In ten years, any mention of those events would still make him burn with shame. 

“Because it’s a true sign of love when you make sure the man your future bride is pining after is free for the taking.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Bessie said, glad that somebody finally understood her. “It was just to make Duff lose interest and move away. Because he doesn’t belong here.”

“I’ve already packed,” Duff said. “What do we do?” he mouthed into Axl’s direction. 

“How about you make us some more tea, Bessie?” Axl suggested. 

She smiled and nodded. Axl joined him at the door. 

“Run home and check if Izzy is back,” he whispered. “Then have him come here. If he thinks he needs to do a full reading, have him pack his supplies, but her behaviour is so weird, I don’t think it’s as good as the coin was. He can probably readjust her brain with one flick of the wrist.”

“And you?” Duff didn’t like the idea to leave Axl here when Bessie was about as loony as he had been. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll let her prattle about Jacob Whatshisname. Should keep her happy.”

Duff ran all the way back. Dripping he stumbled into the shop where Slash lay on the counter only to realize that Izzy’s hat and coat were still missing. 

“Bessy Harris slipped us the coin,” he said because he had to tell somebody. Slash listened, but the story didn’t seem interesting enough for him to shift. “She was bewitched by a guy from Horley. She says he’s a shapeshifter, but what if he’s a vampire? Or a minion? Anyway, we need Izzy to check her aura. He’s not back yet, is he?”

Slash rolled himself into a ball and went to sleep. Sometimes his apathy was unbelievable for somebody who fought on Izzy’s and Axl’s side whenever he was needed. But when he was a cat, he sometimes treated them as if they weren’t worth the time of his day. 

He thought about paying a visit to Kate and grabbing a quick bite to eat when the bell rang and Izzy entered the shop. 

“There you are!” Duff exclaimed, and almost hugged him. 

Izzy took a step back and eyed him warily. “You didn’t touch anything, did you?”

Duff rolled his eyes and gave him a rundown of events.

“Bessie Harris?” Izzy asked while he tossed his hat onto the counter, not caring that it landed directly on Slash. “And now you want me to … read Bessie Harris’ aura? The Harris family’s Bessie Harris? The one who gets all turned on when she spots me from the other end of the road? And you want me to … increase what’s already barely tolerable on a normal day?” He looked repulsed, as if Duff had suggested he should clean out the sewer right before dinnertime. 

“It can’t be worse than slaying gooey swamp monsters,” Duff said. 

“You have no idea,” Izzy shrugged out of his wet coat. “All right, come on. Let’s collect some supplies.”

Duff waited in the shop, holding the coat. He also freed Slash from the hat. It took only minutes before he heard boots on the staircase again. Axl would burst a vessel when he noticed the muddy footprints all over the house. 

“You won’t need the shotgun!” Duff said when he noticed the barrel rise over Izzy’s shoulder. “It’s only Bessie Harris.”

“You never know.” Izzy tossed the bag into his direction. “Let’s get this out of the way, once and for all and if I hear the name Bessie Harris ever again, she’ll wish I only used the shotgun on her.”

They stepped back out into the rain and Duff tried to come up with reasons while Izzy might have to shoot Bessie Harris. And what Sally would say if he did. She hadn’t seemed dangerous, just a bit deluded, and he had to take into account that it was simply his way of dealing with unwanted admirers: find a reason to kill them. 

The same little boy opened when they knocked, but this time Duff quickly put a foot into the door before he could lock them out. 

“We’re just here for Bessie and Mr Rose,” he said. “Ask Clara, she’ll tell you it’s all right.”

The boy looked unsure but stepped aside. 

“It’s all right!” Clara yelled from the back of the house. Then her head poked out of a door. “Hi, Mr Stradlin. They’re still in the kitchen.” She vanished again, but Duff heard a tirade directed at one of her little siblings. 

Duff showed him the way, sure that Izzy was not familiar with the interior of Bessie Harris’ home. He probably avoided setting foot into the street. 

Axl sat with Bessie at the table. They were drinking tea while she talked and talked without as much as catching her breath once. But when she spotted Izzy in the doorway, she fell silent.

“You really couldn’t solve this on your own?” Izzy tilted his head to the side. “Man, this is so clumsy, I couldn’t avoid seeing it if I pulled a flour bag over my head. A full one.”

“Stuff your conceit where it belongs,” Axl replied. “You need my help for every stupid amulet on the planet. Can you take care of it?”

“Yes, yes.” Izzy didn’t bother to take off his hat. Or the shotgun. 

Bessie jumped up when Izzy approached the table. He pulled a face as if he was seeing something especially distasteful, and Duff thought, he could aim for a minimum of manners. It wasn’t Bessie’s fault, neither that she was attracted to him, nor that she had stumbled into a trap and been cursed. He knew how that felt and having everybody roll their eyes about it, was not helpful. 

“Listen, Bessie,” Izzy said all the while looking not at, but past her. “I need to touch you to …,” he made a twisting motion with his hand, “set this straight. Will you let me or do we have to knock you out first?”

“Don’t being so condescending, Izzy, really,” Duff said. 

Izzy sighed. “It’s not your fault, Bessie.” He did his best to control his voice, but why this man who used his timbre like a weapon in bed was unable to sound anything but either bored or menacing in everyday life, was beyond him. “Somebody screwed around with your brain and I can help you out here. You might feel a bit woozy, but it’s not as bad as you might fear. Ask Duff, he has plenty of experience with having his mind readjusted.”

“Asshole,” Duff muttered. Sometimes he thought Izzy was the one who was in most dire need of having his brain rearranged. 

“Just do it,” Axl said when all Bessie did was stare in wide-eyed, mute shock. 

He stood up and grabbed her arms from behind. She yelped and tried to free herself, but Izzy was faster. His palm landed on her forehead and her struggles ceased as if somebody had blown out a candle. 

Duff felt for her. It was one thing to have your lover finger your conscience, it must be something else to have it done by the person you were not so secretly in love with and who kept rejecting you year after year. He would die from embarrassment if that ever happened to him. 

The procedure didn’t take long. After a few minutes, Izzy removed his hand and Bessie blinked. 

“I …,” she stuttered, and then her knees gave out.

To Duff’s relief, she didn’t faint, just dropped onto the bench and buried her head in her arms. 

“It’s all right,” he said and hesitantly touched her shoulder. 

Axl and Izzy stood around like tailor’s dummies. 

“Can happen to everybody.”

“No,” Bessie sobbed. “Things like that only ever happen to me.”

“Happens to me all the time,” Duff said. “Remember the shilling?”

“Oh, God!” Bessie looked up. Her face, beet red, was streaked with tears. “I’m so sorry. I should never have done that. I …”

“It’s all right.” Duff petted her arm. “You won’t believe the stuff I did while under that spell.”

He glared at Izzy, who pulled a face and rolled his eyes, clearly not thinking that this was the same at all. 

“We need name and address of this Jacob,” Izzy said. 

Bessie cast him a panicked look. “I’m sure he didn’t have an idea …”

“Bessie,” Izzy interrupted him. “You are no longer bewitched. You have no excuse to still spout bullshit. Give me his name and address or I can become really unpleasant. Duff may be too nice to give you hell for what you’ve done, but I’m not that much of a philanthrope, so, make your decision?”

“Jacob Brown.” She added an address in Turnham. 

“All right.” Izzy turned on his heel. “Thanks,” he said as an afterthought. The shotgun slapped against his back as he left without granting her another look. 

“You could have been a bit nicer,” Duff said when they were once more out in the rain. 

“What?” Izzy stopped and gave him an irritated glance. His fingers played with the strap of the gun. 

They stood in front of the Harris’ house and by now water was dripping off the brim of Duff’s hat. He pushed it backwards to not have the drops run into his eyes. 

“It was not Bessie’s fault,” he said. “She was under a spell.”

“Duff.” Izzy briefly closed his eyes. “This spell was so clumsy, I wouldn’t even call it one. Slash could have done better if he put an ounce of effort into it.”

“Slash can perform spells?” Duff asked. “I thought only wizards …”

“On a very, very low level most magic beings can perform spells. Or try, would be the better word. They never amount to much. That’s why you leave it to witches and wizards. Children sometimes play around with it, get a slap on the fingers, and that’s it. This spell? She should have noticed. You would have noticed. Easily.”

“But it’s not her fault that she didn’t,” Duff insisted. “You can’t punish somebody for stupidity.”

“Duff!” Izzy said, louder. He grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. “Stop being so bloody forgiving. Bessie cursed you. Yes, she was under a spell, but first, she should have noticed, and second, do you know what this spell did?”

Duff shook his head. 

“It lowered her inhibitions. Nothing more. This Jacob Brown picked the right victim. She had enough vindictiveness inside her to be pushed into doing something nasty by this badly concealed nudge. You? You were hit by one of the best, meanest, and most insidious curses I have ever encountered and you still didn’t do anything unforgiving. You didn’t even think about hurting anybody. Not at the height of it all, when we escalated it inside your brain and I really expected death threats. Remember what I told you about Axl’s spell?”

Duff nodded. “It’s up to you how you react to a spell.” 

And also, that some men would rather destroy what they could not have than leaving it to somebody else. 

“Exactly. Bessie didn’t care that she was hurting you, more, that she seriously endangered you. When you ran after those vampires? That could have killed you. Easily. Goddammit, this spell was made to kill. The outcome was supposed to either have you kill me or die trying. I don’t even want to think …” He curled his hands into fists and looked to the side in an attempt to get his anger under control. 

“She loves you, Izzy.”

“She is infatuated with me!” he snapped. “That’s a difference. A huge one. It might be excusable if she were fifteen, but she is twenty-seven! I have never encouraged her. I don’t talk to her to make sure she doesn’t get crazy ideas. There was no hope for her that I would suddenly propose in case you were out of the picture. She didn’t care that she destroyed my happiness along with yours. That’s on her, Duff. And that’s not a recommendation for her character.”

“All right,” Duff said. “Calm down.”

“No!” Izzy started down the road and Duff followed. It was almost an hour to Turnham and as this was their own problem, nobody would pay for a cab. They had to walk. “She knew she was jinxed. She had to because no way is she that stupid. She chose to ignore it or maybe pushed it out of her mind, and do you know why? Because she’s well on her way to spinsterhood and suddenly there was this … this Jacob interested in her and she refused to consider that he might be bad news.”

Duff didn’t reply. It was easy for Izzy, who was a man, or for Axl, who had been in the rare position of financial independence during his exclusively female years. Life was different for somebody like Bessie Harris, as he knew from his own sisters’ experiences. 

The only job open to them was badly paid employment as domestic servants. A maid earned far less than a footman, although she worked just as hard. For women like them, it was marriage, placement in a household, or staying with her parents and the myriads of younger siblings until one after the other moved out and married and looked full of pity at the spinster sister who would always be a burden on one of them. 

“You can’t forgive everybody,” Izzy went on. “I get that Sally is your friend, but it would be within your rights to put a bullet through Bessie Harris’ head.”

“Really, Izzy!” Duff said. “That would be a bit over the top.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Izzy was talking himself into a rage. It happened very rarely, but whenever it did, his rants could give Axl’s a run for their money. “How often do I have to tell you? This spell was meant to end in somebody’s death, either yours or mine. Killing her would be well within our laws.”

“She’d have the right to a trial,” Duff corrected. 

“There are no trials for crimes among us.” Izzy stomped into a puddle and Duff jumped to not get caught in the spray. It was enough that water was coming from above, he didn’t need from below in addition. 

“What do you mean there are no trials?” Duff asked when he had caught up to him again. 

“What do you think we’re doing here?” Izzy asked back. “You and me, huh? Unless whatever we do inconveniences the non-magical population, Foxhill is off the map. The police won’t deal with our issues. We could kill each other and nobody would care.”

Duff faltered for a few steps before he sped up again. He had always thought Izzy took care of everything because the administration came down excessively hard on magical people, and he tried to keep them from remembering that Foxhill existed at all. Not that they refused to interfere at all. 

“Does that make you…,”

“Sheriff, judge, and executioner,” Izzy said. “All in one person. I thought you were aware of that. We have killed intruders a few times already.” He stopped so suddenly, Duff crashed into him. “You know I’m not quick to kill, right? I do try to find a way out whenever possible.”

Duff nodded. 

“Because lately, you act as if I was totally trigger-happy.” Izzy cast him a questioning look from under the brim of his hat. “Sometimes it’s necessary. Like … oh, now I understand.”

“Understand what?” They stood in the rain, staring at each other as if it was the first time they met. 

“Human shape. Apart from that few vampires, whenever you saw me kill it looked like … more of an animal.”

“Or something dragged from a swamp,” Duff replied. 

Izzy nodded. “Remember the gwyllgi?” 

“The black dog? Sure.”

“You wouldn’t have batted an eye if I had killed him. You expected me to do it.”

Duff blushed and nodded. 

“Because he looked like an animal. But Slash looks like a cat, most of the time. It doesn’t change what he is.”

“I know,” Duff said. “I think I didn’t understand, but I do now. I hope. It was all … so new.” Which wasn’t an excuse. 

“I’m not blaming you,” Izzy said. “It’s normal. If they look human, the inhibition level to kill is a lot higher. For me, too. But you have to understand that sometimes what looks human is in fact far less so than a creature that looks like an animal. Or something dragged from a swamp.”

“Bessie Harris is still human,” Duff said. “Maybe a stupid human. Maybe not the nicest human. But still human. I think she learned her lesson.”

“Which is why she is still alive,” Izzy said. “But if it wasn’t for you and your stupid soft heart, I would make sure that she leaves Foxhill. Anybody else bewitching people with a spell like that …” He was breathing heavier again, as if mentioning the curse was enough to upset him. “All I’m saying is that killing is part of the job. Because sometimes we have no other choice. We have no prison. We can’t detain people. The two ways of punishment open to us are exile from Foxhill or death. Death is what I choose when I think that exile won’t work. That they will either come back or are so much of a danger that I can’t square it with my conscience. If I overstep the council will likely pull me in and maybe they will one day decide that I’m the one who deserves the bullet through the head. But so far they have handed me free rein.”

Izzy started walking again. “There will be moments,” he finally said. “where I will kill, not in acute self-defence, but because I have made the decision that somebody is no longer allowed to live.”

Duff wanted to say that there surely would be a way around such an act, but he knew better. If it was anybody beside Izzy doing this, he would likely accept it. People were sentenced to death all the time. It was the idea of Izzy as the executioner he did not want to deal with. 

“What about Jacob?” he suddenly asked. If Izzy was ready to kill Bessie Harris, what would he do with Jacob?

“We’ll see when we’re there,” Izzy forced out between clenched teeth. “If you’d rather go home …”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Duff knew where this was leading. It was the same situation they had had when dragging the vampire to Stakesby Road. Izzy expected having to do something that would not go well with his assistant’s stupid soft heart. At least he wasn’t sent to his room like a little boy but got a choice. 

“I’ll come,” he said when all he wanted to do was indeed hide in his room like a little boy. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Izzy nodded but did not comment. Instead, he changed the topic. For the rest of the way, he narrated the council meeting for him. 

“They didn’t like the idea,” he said. “They think it’s my responsibility.”

Duff started to seethe and was just about to launch into a tirade of his own when he saw Izzy’s smirk. 

“But I took a leaf out of your book of ‘How to Threaten People into Submission’. 

“I didn’t threaten you into submission.” Duff stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. It was getting uncomfortably heavy as it soaked up all the rain. If he had known that they would walk all the way to Turnham, he would have donned his oilskin instead. 

“You did,” Izzy replied, still smirking. “I suggested to hand in my resignation.”

“You what?” Duff sputtered. 

Izzy shrugged. “It’s not as if they can force me. I mean, they don’t even employ me. I should get something like a salary if they did. All they do is hand me a pittance whenever I do something for the greater good instead of having somebody pay me directly. Most of the time it’s barely covering the expenses we have.”

“What did they say?” Duff asked a little breathless. 

Izzy’s grin broadened. “Axl will get a chance to get up on a soapbox. You can tell him to prepare his motivational speech.”


	17. Destroyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might need some kind of trigger warning regarding questionable things happening once again.

They reached Turnham in a foul mood and drenched to the skin. Duff wondered if the shotgun was still usable, but it turned out, in order to keep the powder dry, Izzy hadn’t loaded it yet. It was kind of reassuring that he hadn’t marched into the Harris’ house, ready to kill somebody. For their encounter with Jacob Brown, however, he rectified the situation.

He lived in a small cottage, nestled into a dip at the border of a larger farm. The meadows, dotted white with sheep and yellow with dandelion, seemed far too cheerful for the job ahead of them. Lambs, unperturbed by the rain, tried out how fast their legs would carry them, while a few cows grazed on a fenced-in patch. 

Mud squelched under their boots, and the smell of wet spring earth lay in the air as they approached the house. In his home county, cottages like these had sprouted like mushrooms around the farms. Rough stone, crumbling plaster, dirt-encrusted windows, paint peeling off the door. The inside would be damp and mouldy and at this time of the year, most of them would house various numbers of malnourished, pneumonia ridden children. The last, at least, they would be spared. 

The chimney didn’t smoke. Duff wondered if Bessie had ever been here or only knew Jacob from his visits to Foxhill. Would she want to move into this desolated hut for a man she had met a handful of times? How desperate was she to consider such a step?

In the distance, a dog barked angrily. Izzy levelled the shotgun and nodded. Duff knocked and quickly escaped out of the line of fire. Nothing happened. Izzy pointed again, and this time he hammered his fist against the door as loud as he could. 

“Hey!” he yelled for good measure. “Anybody at home?”

Steps shuffled, a bolt screeched and the handle was turned. Izzy didn’t hesitate. The gap couldn’t have been more than an inch when he lowered the shotgun for a second to kick it full open. Then the weapon was up again, and he brandished the barrel in front of the inhabitant’s face. 

Duff heard a yelp, stumbling, crashing, and then he was behind Izzy and entered. His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the barely existing light. Jacob Brown, Duff noticed to his surprise, was a good-looking man. He didn’t know what he had expected, somebody matching his abode probably, but instead, he was confronted with a man no older than Izzy, tall and broad shouldered, with even features and long, curly, blond hair. 

What did it say about his own shallowness that suddenly he understood Bessie’s decision to marry this man and move out into his shed a lot better?

The house, however, could have used a woman’s touch. Everything was dirty and rickety and did not leave the impression that it was meant to survive another winter. Furniture was scarce enough to call it non-existent and the straw moulding away on the water-logged dirt floor was in dire need of being exchanged. The ceiling bloomed in green, blue, and yellow and consumption waited just around the corner. Axl’s chickens lived in greater luxury than Jacob Brown. 

“What do you want?” Jacob asked, his eyes neither on Duff nor Izzy, but firmly trained on the muzzle of the shotgun. 

“Jacob Brown, I assume,” Izzy said. “We haven’t had the pleasure yet. But then, you know who I am, don’t you?”

“The wizard,” he said, dragging the words out from a place too far away to grant quick access. Hands raised he made a few steps backwards and Duff noticed a sluggishness in his movements that didn’t befit the situation. He seemed barely awake. 

Izzy pressed forward until the bed stopped Jacob’s retreat. One more step and he sat down, his body holding less tension than a wet towel. 

“You’ve had visitors tonight, huh?” Izzy asked, his voice not unkind.

Given the way he had talked to Bessie, this sudden gentleness was confusing. Jacob had tricked her into delivering the coin, he was the true culprit. Duff had expected scorn, brutality, had wondered for the last hour how much violence he would give Izzy a pass for, and at which point he might have to step in. And now he expressed the bedside manner of a gentle grandfather. Would Izzy always remain a riddle to him? 

And why was Jacob so quiet and submissive? Shouldn’t he be fighting? Try to escape? Attack them? He was supposed to be a dangerous monster, not this helpless puppy. 

Izzy let the shotgun sink until it pointed towards the floor. Then, without taking his eyes of the man in front of him, he handed Duff the weapon. He took it, not sure if he was supposed to keep it up or put it away. He decided on the middle way and held it loosely over his arm. By now he was familiar enough with firearms that they didn’t intimidate him anymore. Izzy had made it his chore to clean them, and now and then he was allowed to do practice shooting in the yard. He wasn’t a brilliant marksman, but he knew how to handle all of them. 

“Still a bit on the drained side, aren’t we?” 

Izzy sat down next to Jacob, wiped his long curls away from his throat, and inspected his neck. 

“Where do they bite?” he asked, his voice still soft. “Somewhere not too visible?”

Jacob flinched away from his touch, but then he pulled up his sleeve and showed a row of what looked like punch marks below his elbow. 

“That’s quite the set you’ve got there.” Izzy sighed and stood up and Jacob slumped into himself, arm still outstretched in front of him. “Poison’s not fully out of his system yet,” Izzy whispered. “That’s why he’s so pliant.”

“Jacob!” he said aloud. 

Jacob’s head rose an inch, and he did his best to focus on them. 

“You remember the coin you gave Bessie? The shilling?”

He nodded. 

“Who gave it to you? Who came up with the plan?”

“The master wanted it done.” He had difficulties keeping his head upright. “But I don’t deal with him directly.”

“The master of the nest in Horley? Ashwin?”

“Horley, yes.” His eyes were almost glazed over. 

All of a sudden, Duff realized not only what was going on here, but also what lay in Izzy’s future. 

“This is what will happen when you’re going to let him bite you?” he hissed. “You’ll let him turn you into … this?”

He had seen Izzy unconscious after indulging in the bloody opium pipe, reduced to a drooling wreck, incoherent from laudanum abuse, and each time he had wanted to smack him for the way he neglected his health and his sanity. 

This was worse. Allowing his most bitter enemy to bring him down to such a state, was insane. He had to talk to Axl. On the day of the meeting, they had to beat Izzy unconscious and tie him to his bed. And douse him in laudanum, if necessary. Hell, Duff would get him a complete opium kit if it kept him from … this. 

Izzy sat next to Jacob again. He took his chin and made him look up, but had to wipe hair back to reveal eyes. He was gentle, tender almost, no comparison on how he had handled Bessie. He reached up and positioned his hand on Jacob’s forehead. He went out like a light and collapsed into Izzy’s arms. Carefully, he laid him down, arranged his legs on the bed, and watched him full of … compassion. 

“What now?” Duff asked and stepped closer to the bed. He hung the shotgun over his shoulder and squatted down, looking at Jacob Brown’s beautiful face. “Why are you so nice to him? He is a vampire’s minion.”

“Yes,” Izzy replied. “But he’s also a dead man.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

Izzy shook his head. “He’s too far gone.”

“Addicted to biting?” Izzy had come back from opium abuse. Shouldn’t Jacob be able to shirk his feeding addiction? Wouldn’t it be easier to keep him away from vampires than it was to keep a wizard from laudanum? 

“Yes, but not only.” He folded his hands in his lap. “His aura is a mess.”

“Mine was, too,” Duff said. “And I recovered.”

“This is different.” Izzy didn’t take his eyes of Jacob. “Completely destroyed. That’s what happens if somebody is turned into a minion. You can save them if you get to them within … let’s say a week. After that, it’s too late. You can take them out of the nest and all they’ll do is run back to their masters. Add that he’s heavily addicted to feeding, so bad that they send somebody out here to keep him taken care of …” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Duff. Nothing I or Axl or anybody I know can do here.”

“What happens now?” Duff sat opposite Izzy on the corner of the bed.

“That’s your decision.” 

“Mine?” He asked startled. He wasn’t sure he liked the implication. “Why mine?”

“Because you were his victim.” Izzy turned his eyes on him. They were darker than usual, Duff thought, his pupils blown wide in the dim cottage. He chewed his lower lip. “If you don’t want to make the decision, that’s all right. But if you do, I’ll act accordingly.”

“Izzy!” Duff took his hands into his own. “What are you talking about? You said he was a dead man. Because the addiction will kill him?”

“No.” Izzy tried to pull his hands away, but Duff didn’t let him. “No, but it will make him run back to them. And then the nest will kill him. He failed. It’s obvious. I know about the coin, you’re still alive and kicking and by my side. Plan went wrong. In a few nights somebody will pay him a visit and ask for a report. He won’t lie. He can’t. Not anymore. They’ll take him back to Horley and bleed him dry. They won’t make it easy for him. He’ll suffer. Failure is nothing vampires tolerate. Not among themselves and definitely not among their minions.”

“We can’t allow that!” Duff said. They couldn’t. Even if there was no hope for Jacob, they couldn’t sentence him to such a fate. 

“The only other possibility is to kill him here,” Izzy said. “I … had feared that it might come to this, which is why I brought it up earlier.” He sighed. “We can’t … lock him up somewhere. Even if we had such a place, what for? He will go mad if he is cut off from regular feeding. There isn’t enough of his mind left to help him overcome this level of destruction. We could make sure he leaves the area, but same thing. He will go back to Horley.”

“His family?” Duff asked. 

Izzy shrugged. “If he has one. I’ve never heard of them. He might be from around here, he might have moved to Horley for work, he might have been caught by accident and Ashwin might have thought it was this brilliant idea to turn him against us. Might all be made-up crap to mislead somebody as gullible as Bessie Harris, too. But let’s assume they do live around here somewhere. We hand him back to them, and they will all be killed. Either by him or by his masters. I have no influence outside Whittlingsfield and I can’t protect them.”

Duff’s thoughts raced. He let go of Izzy and rubbed his sweaty hands against his thighs. 

“There has to be a way,” he said. “So, we can’t leave him here and we can’t let him go and we can’t lock him up somewhere until he gets better because he only will get worse.”

“That sums it up.” Izzy chewed on his lip until he had bitten it bloody. 

“And you want me to … decide.” He sobbed the last word.

“You don’t have to,” Izzy said quickly. “I’m not trying to rub this in or force you to do anything you’re not ready for. But you were his target and I don’t want to decide this over your head. Not after …. after this bloody heart-to-heart, we’ve head.”

Right. What a moment for Izzy to let him in on the decision-making process. 

“You know what you would do, don’t you?” Duff asked. 

“Yes.” Izzy kept his features carefully schooled, trying to not influence his judgement by giving away his opinion. Not that he had to. Duff knew how Izzy would decide. And he knew how he would decide himself, too He just refused to admit it. Either he found a way out or nobody would. Jacob’s fate was a burden he didn’t want on his shoulders. A burden Izzy felt every day. 

He wondered if he would show this much pity if Jacob wasn’t so utterly beautiful, had not been so pliant and confused, and hadn’t reminded him so much of Izzy under the rule of the opium pipe. Why couldn’t he look like a swamp monster, snarl at them, attack them? Would he still feel these inhibitions to sentence him to death? Duff wished he was a good enough person to say that it wouldn’t make a difference, but he knew it did. 

“If he was my dog, I would shoot him,” Duff said. “Now. While he was still asleep. I wouldn’t let him wake up.” Another sob rose from his throat, but he swallowed it before it had a chance to leave his mouth. 

“That’s what you decide?” Izzy asked. 

‘No,’ Duff thought. ‘Not in a million years.’ 

He ran through the options again, wanted to ask for a reprieve, suggest taking Jacob home, lock him into the basement for now, until they had found a solution. But he also knew that they would never find one. He thought of Izzy, buried alive in silence and darkness, slowly going mad. Sure, their basement might be a less cruel option, but by how much? And for how long? And then? In the end, they would have to make the same decision they were facing now. 

If he was non-magical, they might try to find a hospital for him, but for a shapeshifter, that option didn’t exist. A mad shapeshifter would at best go to a workcamp and from what Axl had said, those were just a slow and miserable form of execution. 

“They work them until they drop dead,” he had said. “And those few who returned didn’t live for long either. Often enough all they achieved by coming home was infecting their families with whatever disease they had contracted up there. Like the Wards. Arthur Ward was sent up for theft. Five years later they released him back home. Consumption. Invited his wife and three of the four children to his grave.”

“Duff?” Izzy asked softly. 

Duff took a deep breath. Then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what I decide.”

“All right.” Izzy pulled an army revolver out from under his coat. “Wait outside.”

“No.” Duff looked at Jacob. 

“Duff,” Izzy said it nicely, with just a hint at exasperation. “There’s nothing you have to prove.”

“It’s not about that,” Duff replied. “I said if he was my dog, I would shoot him. And if he was my dog, I would do it myself.”

“He isn’t your dog,” Izzy said. 

“I made the decision,” Duff said. “That makes it my responsibility.”

He held out the hand for the revolver. 

Izzy closed his eyes for a moment. “This is not a good idea.” He still managed to keep his voice calm. “It is something you can never take back.”

“I sentenced a person to death,” Duff said. “I can’t take that back either.”

“This is different. Believe me. It is.” Izzy’s hands closed more firmly around the gun. 

Duff pulled his mouth into a stubborn line. “You said it was my decision.”

“It is,” Izzy said. “I’m just asking you to overthink it.”

He held out his hand again and without further protest, Izzy passed him the revolver. Duff’s hands trembled. He knew the weapon well enough, had shot it several times at a drawn target in their backyard. A Beaumont–Adams double-action, percussion revolver, acquired illegally from an army veteran. He checked the cartridge the way Izzy had shown him, closed it and looked once more at Jacob.

“Back of the head,” Izzy said. “Use a pillow. Farmhouse is far enough, so nobody should hear.”

They turned Jacob onto his side, facing away from them. Suddenly Duff’s hands shook so heavily that he thought he wouldn’t be able to do it. Izzy shifted nearer, carefully closed his hands around Duff’s, adjusted the level and stabilized him. Duff moved his index finger towards the trigger … and pulled. 

Afterwards, when Izzy retrieved the bullet, he did look away. They tore a hole into the mattress and pulled the straw out before they strategically placed firewood all over the room. Izzy dropped a handful of energy marbles and when they were far enough from the cottage, he had them detonate. They had made it half a mile down the country lane when they saw the little house go up in flames. 

In total silence, they walked home through the rain. Izzy tried once or twice to say something, but Duff was not yet ready to react. He was at the same time numb and one thought away from bursting into tears. He ran his options through his mind, again and again, always coming to the same conclusion. It didn’t do much to ease his conscience, nor the pain that wrecked a part of him he hadn’t known existed. Deep inside his heart, a tiny piece of his soul withered and died. 

Eventually, Foxhill lay in front of them the way it always appeared, grey, run-down, welcoming. Duff almost turned around and fled. Did Izzy feel like this whenever he came home? Like he was a canker that should be cut out instead of being allowed to fester inside this community? Maybe he understood because when they set their foot onto the first cobblestones of Stakesby Road, he took his hand and squeezed it for a second. 

They dragged their water-logged coats and muddy boots into the shop, but the expected scolding failed to rain down on them. Axl didn’t complain when Izzy dropped his hat onto the counter, just picked it up, then stretched out the hand for Duff’s and delivered both to their respective hooks. He looked from one to the other as they peeled off dripping overclothes, reading at least part of what had transpired off their faces. Izzy, Duff knew, would clue him in about the rest later, when they were alone. 

“Constable Carter is in the library,” Axl said when they both stood in wet socks in the corridor. “Slash is keeping an eye on him.”

Izzy groaned. “I sent him the report. Was he not happy?”

“I think he was. Said something about additional issues that had come up and which he hadn’t taken into consideration and he needed your advice.”

Izzy chewed on his lip. “Did he give you hell for ‘visiting’ again?” 

Axl shook his head. “On the contrary. He was a bit worried when I informed him that poor Miss Rose was poorly again. And from the questions he asked me, I would say he assumes that poor Miss Rose is not really sick, but in a compromising situation. Because in between the bouts of her ominous malaise she is, I quote, ‘a veritable picture of glowing beauty’.”

Izzy snorted. 

“He suspects that I, her dedicated brother, are here to have you, the most likely perpetrator, do right by her and thus save her reputation. I have his full support and if I should encounter any issues as a result of my prolonged, but surely necessary stay, I should contact him and he will do whatever is within his powers. Which, he admitted, was not much. But he is delighted to hear that Miss Rose’s family is looking out for her and offers their assistance.” 

“Are we there again? And why does everybody think I’m the bad guy here? You own the house, the money. If anything, it’s you keeping me for your personal amusement, and as a poor wizard, I have no choice but compromise my virtue for a roof over my head.”

“For a moment, I feared he would offer to marry me himself.” Axl crossed his arms over his chest. “Or suggest to use force of arms on you to make you man up and do your duty.”

Izzy’s eyes almost fell out of his head. “The spell hit him pretty hard, didn’t it?”

“It may have started with the spell, but I get the feeling, it’s growing into … something else. Because it seems to persist even if I’m not in the same room with him, and as you know yourself, the attraction should fade if he isn’t in the immediate vicinity. Only in his case, it seems to get worse.”

Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Unexpected side effects?”

“I’d have to do some research. In the meanwhile, do I need to go on about what else he prattled, or will you get him out of my hair?”

“All right, all right, I’ll deal with him.” Izzy ran both hands through this wet hair. “This additional issue won’t endear me any further to him, I’m afraid. I just … put on something dry.”

“I’ll be back right away,” Duff said. 

Normally he would have considered the whole affair as hilarious, but right now wondered if he would ever again be able to laugh about anything at all. He wanted to get drunk, and if he was lucky, Constable Carter would leave soon, and he could dedicate himself to that aim. 

“You don’t have to …,” Izzy started, but Duff ignored him. Izzy being this considerate only served to exacerbate his guilt. 

Getting changed took him a bit longer than usual as he seemed to have forgotten how to put on his clothes in the correct order. When he came down, Izzy was in the library. 

“You’re saying … what exactly?” he was asking when Duff opened the door. “They are going to just … keep their reanimated corpses?”

Izzy sat in his usual armchair, elbows on his knees, palms pushed together and eyes narrowed. His anger didn’t seem to be aimed at the constable though. 

Duff nodded into Constable Carter’s direction and silently joined Slash on the couch. 

“They are worried about how to explain to the families that their joy about the sudden revival of their loved ones was premature. But to be honest, I think they have no idea how to deal with the consequences. They would have to kill them. Again. And is that even possible? Or will they rise from the dead? Again?”

Izzy rubbed a hand over his neck. “I have no idea. I’m … in the process of gathering information, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. I can’t just frequent the public library. People who know more about rituals like that are not the type I have over for my annual garden party.” 

“But you can find out more?” It was the first time, Duff saw Izzy and Constable Carter without open knives in their pockets. Miss Rose’s delicate situation may be a personal affront for the poor man, but it did not influence his professional attitude. It was … something, at least. “I need to know if these … creatures are dangerous. To their families. Or bystanders. Will they just be puppets or do they develop a mind of their own? You mentioned two options and if the second one is correct … if they are demons … then I doubt Miss Elaine Royes will content herself with her dollhouse.”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “I know. As I said, I’m working on it. Give me a week, maybe two.”

“As my superiors are not willing to dig deeper into this matter …,” he hesitated, “I’m afraid there won’t be another consultant contract.”

Izzy laughed. “Why am I not surprised, hm? Am I working for favours again?”

“That might be the case.”

“At least I won’t have to write any further reports.” Izzy buried his face in his hands. “I would also need to talk to Dr Rowland again.”

“I assume you’ll manage to arrange a meeting on your own?” Constable Carter raised his eyebrows. “As you know each other from … Pitlochry?”

“We don’t know each other,” Izzy said without batting an eyelash. “That was only a ruse.”

“Of course, how stupid of me to mix that up.” 

The constable didn’t take his focus off Izzy, but Izzy kept his cool. 

“Can happen,” he said, and stood up. “If there isn’t anything else…”

“I can see myself out.” Constable Carter stood up, too and to Duff’s astonishment, they shook hands. “By now I’m quite familiar with the layout of the house. My best wishes to Miss Rose. I dearly hope her … situation will sort itself out to her full satisfaction.”

“I’m sure it will,” Izzy replied with a tired grin. “Good afternoon, Constable.”

When they heard the door to the shop, Izzy poured them both a glass of whisky. Predictably, Slash shifted and demanded his own dose of alcohol. They drank in silence, and when Duff had numbed his senses to his satisfaction, Izzy took him upstairs, helped him to bed, and curled around him until he was buried in his lover’s scent and warmth. 

He would survive this, he knew. It would hurt, like an amputation, and now and then the dead piece of his soul would remind him of his loss in phantom pains, but he would survive. It would take a few days, maybe longer, maybe shorter, but he would live again and laugh and feel joy. But he also started to understand Izzy’s relentlessness and total lack of mercy for anything that was a vampire. 

Jacob Brown had once been a human being. He had lived and he had loved, he had had hopes and dreams and a future. All that had been twisted into a caricature of existence. On the outside, he had looked alive, but his inside had been rotting away for how long? Months at a minimum. He had died on the day a vampire had hacked his fangs into him. Since then, should have been lying dead in his grave. Instead, he had transmitted the same putrefaction that was decomposing his soul onto Bessie, who had contaminated him and maybe even Sally a little bit. And he would eventually have passed it on to Izzy. 

Vampires were not just killers or predators. They were a disease that corroded anything they touched. Slowly, unnoticed at first, but inexorably.


	18. Remembered

Izzy employed the same principle when dealing with unpleasant experiences as Axl: work. 

As they were once again exempt from being paid for their troubles, the days of horse-drawn transport were over. When Izzy decided that noon was the perfect time to pay a visit to Dr Rowland, they had to walk the long way out to Heatherfield. Most of it uphill. 

The sun was out for a change, but the streets were still swamped and muddy, the gutters overflowing and turning into little torrents from all the rain. At least it diluted the stench that could be nauseating during hot summer days. 

Duff’s first impulse regarding the previous day’s events had been to bury them as deep as was possible, lock the door and lose the key. An undertaking that turned out to be impossible because the memories refused to leave him alone. 

“Will it ever get easier?” he suddenly asked, when they had left Foxhill behind themselves and turned into a busy main road. They walked close to the houses to not get doused in splash water from the carriages. 

“No,” Izzy said, not asking what he was talking about. “And to be honest, I don’t think it should ever be easy.” He fell silent for a moment. “Yesterday, people like Jacob, who are not at fault … at least not fully … that’s the worst that can happen in this job. Fortunately, it is very rare.”

“How often did you have to … kill like that.” Duff’s first impulse had been to find a euphemism, but that wouldn’t have been fair. Killing was what they had done and killing was what he would call it. 

“This was the third time,” Izzy said. 

“The other two?” Duff asked. He needed to know, needed to prepare himself for what else might happen in this line of work. If the swamp could get any deeper than it already was. 

Izzy chewed his lip. A newspaper boy promised stories full of blood and gore if one bought his merchandise, but Duff doubted that the dead body in the burned-down shed had made the headline. 

“The first was Alice Reed. I had done the job for about a year, and I was a little bit older than you are now. Which makes me feel old now.” He sighed. 

Izzy often felt old and Duff started to understand why. He had squeezed two lives into the one he had lived and neither of those had been easy. 

“Anyway, she used to be my neighbour, when I was still living with my foster father. I never showed you the house, did I?”

Duff shook his head. 

“I should one day, I suppose.” He kicked a stone out of the way. “Alice was this really nice woman. Especially for a teenager. You know, the kind who gives you a biscuit every time she’s made some or calls you in with her own kids when dinner is ready?”

Duff nodded. His Mum had been one of those neighbours. No matter how scarce food had been, there had always been an additional face looking hungrily at the pot. 

“We didn’t have much back then, and you know how it goes when you’re battling through all those growth spurts?”

“Always hungry.” Oh God, Duff thought, yes, he knew. Sometimes he had been ready to gnaw on his fingers.

“I guess I have been fed in turns by half of Foxhill.” 

Izzy looked wistful, as if, despite the hard times, he harboured fond memories of those days. It might be at least part of the reason why he felt he owed them. 

“One day she got bitten by a werewolf. A bit like Kate, you could say. Only nobody noticed for a while.” 

He fiddled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it while walking. At least he used a normal match and didn’t light it up in magical green, Duff thought. The wasn’t sure how well that would be received outside Foxhill. They walked past a line of food stands, and his stomach rumbled as the ashy smell of the cigarette mingled with the scent of freshly baked goods. He hadn’t been overly hungry during breakfast and it was almost lunchtime.

“She didn’t know either. And when I told her, she refused to believe me at first. Although, she could have figured it out on her own, to be honest. I mean, if your recurring memory loss aligns perfectly with the full moon, it’s not that difficult. Thank God her hunting skills weren’t defined yet. A few animals had vanished, but no humans. Yet. Anyway. I said I’d keep it a secret and sent her to Axl for the lupius.”

“Didn’t she wear it?” Duff asked. “Or didn’t it work?”

“She did and it worked.” Izzy stuffed his free hand into his coat pocket and sucked at the cigarette as if he hoped something more potent than tobacco smoke would reach his lungs. “The call of the blood was too strong. You know how Kate gets restless during the full moon?”

“And bakes bread like we own a bakery?” 

The inhabitants of Foxhill knew to line up in front of the shop after a full moon because nobody could eat that much bread. 

Izzy smiled. “Yes. Good way to cope with the itch. Kate has never experienced the thrill of the hunt, but she feels it. Alice had gone through several lunar circles, and when the full moon came around, she took off the lupius.”

“Oh,” Duff said. “And … she killed somebody?”

“No.” Izzy blew out smoke. “She was careful. Went out onto the moor before removing the charm, and hunted sheep, mainly. But the problem is, the more often you do it, the more you’ll allow the urge to grow. Eventually, it will overwhelm you and sheep won’t be enough. The natural prey for a werewolf is the human being. I told her so and she promised to stop.”

“She didn’t,” Duff said. 

“Of course not.” Izzy pulled his shoulders up to his almost his ears. 

A man with a large sack over his back hurried past them, and Duff bumped into Izzy in an attempt to make room. This was one of the quarters he liked most, busy, one shop next to the other, a pub at every corner, and always something new to spot. People around here were not rich, but they weren’t scraping to survive either. It may not be as colourful as Foxhill was behind its grey facades, but it was lively, cheerful, and soothingly mundane. 

“Eventually I asked her to leave. Told her that I would have to kill her if she stayed. That I was breaking laws left and right already, not only Whittlingsfield’s but also our own by keeping her predicament a secret. I don’t know how often.”

Izzy looked as if he was short of lighting a second cigarette to pull enough smoke into his lung. It would never be enough. They walked past a pharmacy and his eyes stumbled over a bottle in the display, clear, filled with red fluid. He lingered for a second before he marched on. Duff sighed inwardly. That stuff was everywhere. 

“She didn’t want to move away but promised to stop. Next full moon, I followed her up to the moors and same problem. All in all, I watched this go on for almost a year, and I noticed how she aimed her hunts more and more into the direction of the nearest village. One day, I confronted her after she had shifted. I … needed her to attack me or I wouldn’t have been able to shoot. But fact is, I provoked her into the attack to make it easier for me.”

This was worse, Duff thought. At least he hadn’t known Jacob Brown. This was like being forced to kill Kate or Sally or even Bessie. 

“That's why you don’t allow Kate to go home during the full moon?”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “Better not take the risk. One of Alice’s sons was my age. Today he’s living in the same house, together with his old father. My first friend after I moved to Foxhill. I was ten, and I still remember how I stood in front of our house and watched a few boys play ball. He was the one who asked me if I wanted to join. Now I’m just the guy who repaid all their kindness by gunning down his mother.” 

Duff pushed his hand into Izzy’s coat pocket and squeezed the hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette. It was a pity that he had to let go right away to not draw attention because Izzy had gently squeezed back as if he would have liked to hold on. 

“How did you deal?” he asked. 

Izzy pulled his mouth into a pout around the cigarette, barely holding on to it. He was well versed in balancing it between his lips and although Duff always expected it to fall out with the way it flopped around, it never did. 

“Smoked opium for a week. Until Axl asked me where the difference between me and Alice was if I couldn’t get a grip either, and that he would toss me out on my ass if I didn’t stop right away.”

“He wouldn’t …,” Duff started. 

“He would,” Izzy said with a fond smirk. “It’s one of the rules between us. I trust him to follow through. In fact, I count on it. I do need some type of incentive to stay sober and for a long time Axl has been the one to provide it.”

“Did it help?” Duff asked. “The opium?” Maybe he should try it, too, if it was such a miracle cure. 

“For the moment,” Izzy said. “Long term it makes everything worse. So, do me a favour, and stay away from it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Duff muttered. 

“Of course not.” Izzy chuckled. He finished his cigarette in silence and flicked it into the gutter. “Axl would toss your ass out onto the street, too.”

No doubt there, Duff thought.

“Listen,” Izzy finally said. “If it gets too much … you can always get out. You know that, right?”

He nodded. Yes, he did know and at the moment the idea was alluring. It wouldn’t change the situation, though. Somebody had to do this job and if he stopped, then Izzy would be as alone as he had been before. It was better if they were in this together. 

“The second one,” he said, not trying to explain his train of thoughts. 

“Right.” Izzy considered his words for a moment. “Vampire minion. I didn’t know him. He moved in from … wherever. Handed out little charms to children that caused them to sneak out of the window at night and look for adventures.”

“That’s not the same,” Duff said. 

“It kind of is,” Izzy said. “He was in a similar state as Jacob. Mind torn, aura in shreds. He did what he was told to do. It was easier for me because some of those children had died and because he was a stranger, but all in all, he was just a tool. He had no control over his actions. It’s like destroying the gun instead of the man who used it.”

“Isn’t that often the case?” Duff asked. “That the small fish get fried because nobody gets their hands on the big ones?” 

Izzy shrugged. “Doesn’t make it any better, does it?” 

“There should be a place for people like Mrs Reed,” he said. “And Jacob. Where they can get help. Learn how to be a werewolf. Or where they can’t harm anybody when they’re beyond recovery.”

“That would be nice,” Izzy replied. “And make me sleep a lot better at night. But I doubt something like that will happen within our lifetime.”

They reached Heatherfield shortly before noon and Duff’s stomach was grumbling. Hopefully, there would be at least tea. He could pretend to like it with extra cream and sugar. 

They headed for the surgery instead of Brooks’ house, another beautiful townhouse, surrounded by another lush garden, and while Duff was not one to be jealous easily, sometimes all the luxury made him feel repulsed. 

The surgery was on the ground floor, reachable through an extra entry so that the patients wouldn’t inconvenience the family. A secretary, old enough that Duff assumed he had been taken over together with the surgery, showed them into a little room and told them full of self-import to wait while he was checking if the doctor would be available. His expression made clear that he didn’t think this would be the case. 

Duff wasn’t surprised. For once, they had neither arrived with the police nor had they bothered to put on their best clothes and looked far too ordinary to afford the fees Dr Rowland surely demanded for his services. He couldn’t stifle a grin when the poor man informed them in confused stutters that the doctor had time for them. 

The consulting room was a lesser example of opulence. It displayed enough oak and leather to convey a sense of importance, but its main purpose was that of working space. The cupboards with their glass doors reminded him of Axl’s laboratory. Gleaming instruments, sanded bottles, although probably with different content, and the same stacks of books everywhere. A few of them lay open on the giant desk as if Dr Rowland had been searching for information. 

“Jeffrey!” he said when they entered. “I didn’t expect you.”

Izzy didn’t correct him. Duff wondered if he considered it not worth the bother, or felt the use of the wrong name was appropriate when dealing with his former love. That he tried to draw a strict line between that era of his life and the person he was now. Maybe being ‘Jeffrey’ now would make it easier to return to being ‘Izzy’ when they left. 

Dr Rowland shook both their hands, inquired after his family in Ireland – Duff pretended they were all still there – called for tea and asked them to sit down. Duff retreated to an upholstered chair to the side, not sure what kind of questions they would ask. Izzy didn’t use the indicated seat, but instead, perched on the corner of the desk.

A second door stood open and led the way to the treatment room, with a stretcher and more, far more terrifying medical equipment. Saws, knives, and tongs were laid out on a side table, ready for use. The type Duff hoped to never get to know them more intimately than at this moment.

Dr Rowland noticed his staring and closed the door before resuming his own place behind the desk. 

“My apologizes,” he said. “I assume the tools of my trade can look a little gruesome.”

Duff thought about the weapons collection in Izzy’s bedroom. It was strange that they left him with less unease than this arsenal of medical support. 

Tea was brought and as always, there was a lot of clattering and pouring, more polite requests after everybody’s well-being and complaints about the weather, until they came to the point.

“Constable Carter informed me about your suspicions,” Dr Rowland said. There was a frown on his forehead. “But I can’t wonder if either he or I misunderstood what you were trying to say.”

“You are not stupid, Giles,” Izzy said. “Neither is Constable Carter. You know what I said.”

“They are really dead?” The frown deepened. 

“Yes.” 

“And you can see that from looking at them?”

“Yes.”

Dr Rowland rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Did you ever consider studying medicine? Such a gift would be immensely helpful.”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “It’s on my list. Right after founding a university that accepts magical people.”

The frown on Dr Rowland’s face turned a little disturbed. Duff knew the feeling, when one was suddenly confronted with all the implications, life as a wizard entailed. And this wasn’t even scratching the surface. 

“I need details,” Izzy said. “Those patients. Who was here when they came to consult you, who accompanied them, every single person they might have had contact with. That includes the old doctor and his family, their servants, their visitors, everybody. Also, people they might have met outside, a gardener, for example, workers who might have been here, delivery personnel, a social event they attended. It would make more sense to talk to their families, of course, but as the administration is sweeping everything under the rug, I don’t really have any options.”

“I already thought about it,” Dr Rowland said. He took a leather folder out of one of the drawers, put it onto the desk, and opened it. “As I surely did not resurrect them, somebody else must have done it. I went through all my case notes, looked up who was working on those days, et cetera. I also consulted the butler about the staff’s working schedule. Unfortunately, this leads to a lot of overlap.” 

“Thank you!” Izzy said surprised when he was handed a whole stack of paper. 

He leafed through the sheets before he handed them to Duff. There was a column for each of the three patients, Duff noticed, plus one for the dates of the visits. Everybody who might have gotten in contact with them was listed below each patient's name, including profession and relationship to either the patient’s family or the old doctor’s household. The last sheet contained an inventory of every single person, and in addition what was known about them, like their age or for how long they were already serving in the household. It was all incredibly detailed and meticulous. 

“Regarding their social commitments …,” he went on, “I’m too new here. I don’t know who might be able to offer information.”

“Lady Elvira,” Duff said. “She might talk to Axl.”

Izzy looked slightly ill at the idea. “You know this will only lead to us being forced to attend some type of horrific gathering, right?”

Duff shrugged. He wasn’t looking forward to standing next to food again either. 

“Some sacrifices are necessary for this line of work,” he said. 

“You know Lady Worley?” Dr Rowland asked surprised. His eyes darted from Duff to Izzy and back. 

“Oh yes,” Izzy said. “We got invited to last year’s summer ball.”

Now the good doctor’s mouth stood open in addition to his bulging eyes. 

“Giles,” Izzy started. “Something else.” He stared at a group of little bronze animals at one corner of the desk, searching for words. “I remember these.” He picked up the statue of a hunting dog, about five inches long, and ran his index finger over its ears. 

“You always liked that one,” Dr Rowland said. 

“Because I’ve always wanted a dog,” Izzy replied. 

“That’s what you said back then, too.”

“Yes. I’ve got one now. Just not as pretty as this.” He put the statue back on the table. “Duff says I have to apologize. For leaving the way I did. It was not fair to you.”

He still perched on the table, his back half turned on his conversational partner. 

“And now you’re doing it? Because Mr McKagan said so?” He looked at Duff again, curious. 

Duff did his best not to blush. This was typical Izzy. He stayed away from opium because of Axl. He apologized for unacceptable behaviour because of Duff. Heaven forbids, he did it because it was the right thing to do. 

“He’s got all the conscience between the two of us,” Izzy said, but he cast one of his rare smiles at Duff, the one that always made him melt into a puddle of affection. “So, I trust him there.”

“Good to know.” Dr Rowland sighed. He leant back in his leather chair and folded his hands over his belly. 

“I need to apologize, too. For harassing you the way I did last time. That was inappropriate. I was just … It was a shock seeing you and then I thought, what if it was still meant to be? If all this was preordained?” He made an all-encompassing motion with his hand. “That you had to leave me so that I could find you again when the time was right? I behaved inexcusably.”

“You didn’t,” Izzy said. He picked up a stag and poked the antlers against the pads of his fingers. “Just …”

“It’s over, I know.” Dr Rowland tapped the thumbs of his folded hands against his belly and his eyes flickered into Duff’s direction again. “You won’t explain, will you? What you were doing up there? In the middle of nowhere, dressed like … you know. Might seem weird, but while that wound was a mystery in itself, what I never really got over were your clothes.”

Izzy snorted. “You won’t believe me if I say that it’s standard wizard attire?”

“I don’t know many wizards, but I doubt they run around the Cairngorms dressed up like a fairy tale prince. At least not in that weather. Unless they know a spell that protects them from the elements, but from the state you were in, it’s safe to say: you didn’t.”

Izzy pursed his lips. “Maybe I should work on one.” 

Duff had never thought about how the fae would dress. But it made sense that Izzy had been wearing their clothes during his escape. He almost asked if Dr Rowland still had them because while they might not be linked to Izzy’s most favourite memories, the fairy tale prince remark made him curious.

“And not when … it was obvious that you haven’t been outside in a long time. It was September, yet you were so pale as if you had been living underground. I doubt you have seen much sun that summer.” 

Izzy tensed and his eyelids fluttered, but he immediately forced his shoulders to relax. Dr Rowland, Duff noticed, had picked up on his unease, too. 

“It was as if you had dropped from the sky.”

Izzy picked the next animal, a lizard with tiny green gems as eyes and another one at the tip of the tail. 

“I still can’t explain.”

“You don’t have to.” Dr Rowland reached for his teacup. “But do you mind if I tell you my assumptions?”

Izzy shook his head. 

“My first impulse was to inform the police, find out if there was a person missing. But on the other hand, it was clear that you had been held captive somewhere.”

Izzy dropped the lizard in surprise. He bent down to pick it off the floor and returned it to its comrades. When he came up, he sat on the chair instead of the corner of the desk. 

“You thought I had been held captive?” A steep wrinkle appeared between his eyes. 

“Yes,” Dr Rowland said, sounding absolutely sure of his theory. 

“Why?”

“You had no hairs around your wrists.”

“What?” Izzy asked confused. 

Dr Rowland smiled a little as if it satisfied him that for once Izzy had no clue what he was talking about. 

“It wasn’t very notable, but they were worn away. By something rubbing against them, I assume. They grew back over the course of your stay, which means, whatever had removed them ... Let’s be blunt here You have, at one time, shortly before you … fell from the sky, worn shackles. Not overly harsh ones, there was no chafing, but shackles nevertheless.”

“What if I just liked to wear bracelets?” Izzy’s eyes were comically wide. It was not easy to make him lose his countenance, but right now he was struggling to keep the upper hand. 

“If that had been the only indicator, then, yes, not worth anything. But in combination with everything else? For example, that your shirt was not torn. You haven’t been robbed and stabbed in the tussle, as you claimed. Unless the robbers decided to undress you before and redress you after. It seemed more like a very clumsy form of execution. With a very large blade. Not the type of knife a cutthroat would use. Somebody had tried to find the right spot, but what either incredibly incompetent or didn’t have the guts to see it through.”

“You never said anything.” Izzy talked as if each word was a struggle. “Why would you just take up an … escaped prisoner?”

“Because that’s not what you were. Her majesty doesn’t make a habit out of dressing her … guests in colourful silk costumes. Or silk in general. So, it had to be somebody who derived some type of … amusement? … out of dressing his captives like that. Somebody with money he could spend on such frivolities. Somebody who was powerful enough to hold a person captive for his entertainment.”

“Wouldn’t that have been another reason to inform the police?” Izzy asked. 

“Money means power, Jeffrey. Whoever was able to do something like that was sure of his position. Whatever the reason you had been kidnapped, the odds were stacked against you. Theft, fraud, deception. It would have been easy to make up a case against you.”

Izzy’s mouth stood open for a moment, before he closed it with an audible thud, his teeth clicking against each other. He swallowed. 

“I’ve never made up my mind about the who but I did have some ideas about the why. Turned out I was totally wrong. To my excuse, I was lacking the most important piece of the whole puzzle. I assume having a wizard at your beck and call can be handy.”

“It kind of is,” Izzy muttered.

“So, there was somebody you were running away from. Hurt like that. In weather like that. You wouldn’t have made it far, but you still ran. It stands to reason that the situation you were running from was intolerable.”

Izzy reached for another statue, a snake, its head raised, mouth opened, and ready to strike. He changed his mind and left it where it was. Instead, he took his cup of tea and emptied it in one long sip. 

“I also assume whoever thought it was a good idea to secure the services of a wizard against his will considered it amusing to dress him up like Merlin.”

“Merlin wears a pointy hat,” Izzy said. “And a long cape. I looked more like … Sir Galahad.”

Dr Rowland turned his eyes to the ceiling. “I’ll stick with Merlin.”

Axl was Merlin, Duff thought. Izzy was more like … Morgan le Fay. But he was reasonably sure that his opinion would not be considered a relevant contribution to the current discussion, and so he kept his mouth shut. 

Izzy looked into his empty cup, clearly wishing for more tea to gulp down. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You weren’t exactly forthcoming. I had the feeling you would run if pressured. For unknown reasons I was fond of your company and didn’t want that to happen.” He smiled. “You were no threat.”

“No,” Izzy said bitterly. 

“I hoped …” He shrugged. “That maybe one day you would trust me enough to tell.”

Duff knew that feeling, waiting for Izzy to address things he was hiding. Maybe somebody should have told the poor man about the gun one had to put against Izzy’s head. Although, he had the suspicion that in Dr Rowland’s case, it would not have had the desired effect. It made him feel a little smug. 

“I can’t tell you,” Izzy said, but his voice was soft. “I really can’t.”

“As I said, I always assumed that somebody powerful had to be involved, so I understand your reluctance. Somebody who would get away with keeping people against their will. Now that I know what you are, I also wondered if he had gotten on your trail and if that was the reason why you vanished overnight.”

Izzy shook his head. “No, it’s … nothing like that. Nobody is after me.” 

At least not like that, Duff thought. Having a vampire lord breathing down once neck didn’t seem to count.

“I’m glad to hear that. Because I was getting worried when I started to think about all these wizard-complications. It was the reason for your captivity, wasn’t it?”

For a moment, Duff thought Izzy would deny everything just for the heck of it, but then he nodded. 

What followed had to be the most awkward silence Duff had been subjected to in all his life, and that included the one after his mother had caught him at the age of fourteen with his dick in his hand, had slammed the door shut, and not talked to him for the rest of the day. 

It ended with a hasty good-bye only minutes later. 

“You’re right,” Duff said when they were out on the street. “He’s not stupid. Constable Carter should ask him to inspect his corpses. I mean, the stuff he got right just from looking at you!”

Izzy gave him an exasperated look. 

“What now?” Duff asked, knowing that it was not a good idea to push the issue. He still wanted to see the Sir Galahad clothes. Surely it wasn’t something Dr Rowland had just thrown away. 

“Now we’ll walk all the way back and work ourselves through those lists. First, we’ll search for anybody who had contact with all three patients. And then I need to find out who of them might have enough powers to raise the dead. Which is a bit difficult because I have no idea how much that might be. I really need to talk to an expert about that. By the way, we got the invitation this morning. The meeting is the night from Saturday to Sunday in a week.”

“That’s Easter,” Duff said. 

“Yes,” Izzy replied. “Fitting, isn’t it? Resurrection Day.”


	19. Trusting

The following two weeks were at the same time incredibly long and far too short. Duff and Axl made several combined efforts to keep Izzy from allowing a vampire to bite him, but it was useless. Of course, it was. 

Duff spent ages at the kitchen table, trying to get anything useful out of the lists they had received. It was difficult because far too many people had had a chance to encounter all three patients. 

“They definitely all met the secretary,” he said when Izzy came back from yet another council meeting in preparation for the big one end of the week, where Axl would hold his flaming speech. “And most of the household staff was at least present, although I have no idea how they should have met the cook, for example.”

Izzy climbed over the bench and sat next to him. Their arms touched as he pulled the notepad Duff had been scribbling on into his directions and read through the list. 

“Try to sort them a bit more according to opportunity,” he said. “The gardener is outside, so there is a chance they ran into each other. The cook is less likely. The secretary will have greeted them, so, yes, he’s a given. One of the errand-boys might have hailed down a cab, something like that. Think about not only who was present, but where they might have met in person and for how long. I have no idea whether it’s enough to touch your victim or if a resurrection requires a lengthy ritual. I don’t even know if you need the corpse to do it or if you can perform it from a distance. But if it turns out, it’s more complicated, we’ll likely be able to strike most of these people off the list.” 

Duff nodded. He tore the sheet off the notepad to start a new table. 

“Also, you forgot to add somebody.”

“Whom?” he asked and skipped through the names again. 

Izzy took the pencil out of his hand and wrote “Dr Giles Rowland” at the bottom of the sheet. 

“But…,” Duff cast him a confused look. “I thought you said he was one of the good guys.”

“He is,” Izzy ran a hand through his hair. “But good people do stupid stuff. And as you noticed, he’s intelligent. Giving us this list was the perfect way to turn our attention on everybody but him. Being all compliant and worried and cooperative and so very eager to help. Might all be an attempt to push us off the track.”

“You really reckon …,” Duff’s mouth stood open, and he quickly closed it. 

“No,” Izzy said. “but if you think about it, he’s still the most likely candidate. Lots of intimate time with each patient. Nobody questioning him if he made them drink a potion or took blood for a ritual. Whatever is needed, he had countless opportunities. He might even have good intentions. As a doctor, he might feel as if he has conquered death. He wouldn’t be the first one. Ruling him out because I like him would be a mistake we can’t afford. In this line of work, being too trusting can kill you faster than any vampire who tries to get his fangs into your neck.”

Duff stared at the name, written in Izzy’s untidy handwriting. “But you don’t think it’s likely?”

Izzy rubbed a hand over his nape. “Let’s say, I hope it’s not him. Because if he’s pulling demons out of another dimension, that leaves me with very few choices.” For a moment he looked vulnerable, his eyes soft, his lips slightly parted. The tip of his tongue flicked out for a second, then his face closed off. “I really don’t want to have to kill him.”

The day of the town hall meeting arrived, and Duff wished he could join, but as always, he was not invited. He understood it, to a certain degree, the councillors’ fear that one day he would run off and inform Whittlingsfield’s non-magical administration about Foxhill’s internal affairs, but it still bothered him. Here he was, fighting necromancers and vampires at their wizard’s side, and they didn’t trust him enough to include him in a stupid meeting about who would be willing to go on patrol now and then.

Determined not to wallow in self-pity, he made himself a mug of tea and retreated to Izzy’s room. For a moment he considered his own bedroom, under the attic, but the prospect held little appeal. Yes, it was his, it was clean, it was dry and at this time of the year halfway warm, but he had never bothered to make it any more habitable than it had been on that first day when Axl had shown him up the ladder, and he had bumped his head against the ceiling. 

Izzy’s room, with its, thanks to Lucy, well-ordered chaos, the scent of incense and patchouli, and something he could only identify as Izzy, felt more like home than his own room ever would. 

He settled on the bed, placed his mug on the nightstand, and opened the book Izzy had given him a few days ago. It was a genealogy of what Izzy called ‘Britain’s vampire nobility’. The entry about Ashwin was short compared to one of the others but had a drawing next to half a page of text. He looked at the picture again, committing it to memory. It was of a man around thirty, with blond, shoulder-long hair and a neatly cropped beard. Small eyes, set wide apart, thick, blond brows, a strong nose and jaw. 

A good-looking man, like all vampires were, and when he had asked Izzy about it, he had said that the transformation would straighten out the body. Not enough to fully change the face, but simply by correcting little irregularities. 

“Or maybe it's because vampires only turn good-looking people,” he had added. 

Duff read the entry again. Ashwin was almost four hundred years old, maybe older, but 1498 was the first time a monk in Norwich had mentioned him in writing. Norwich wasn’t that far, Duff thought. If he were living for four hundred years, he would make sure he’d see the world, not travel from Norfolk to Yorkshire. Izzy had grinned when he had said so, and suggested, maybe they should pack and board a ship to the continent.

Ashwin had the usual crimes accredited to his name and had ensured his position in this book by raiding a few villages along the coast before setting up his lair in Yorkshire and staying there for the next hundred and fifty years. 

All in all, they should be happy with him, Duff thought as he flipped through the pages. There were others, far more cruel and powerful vampire lords. And ladies. Like Hildred, who terrorized a Welsh mountain area until the locals had started in their despair to make human sacrifices to her. A guy named Claudius, assumed to have come over with the Romans, but had been turned by a British vampire, as the legend said. And finally, there was, of course, Alistair McPherson, one of the few vampires of consequence with a first and a second name, who ruled over half of Scotland. The book dedicated a complete chapter to him. 

“With how thinly that area is populated, you need a bit more space to feed all of your subordinates,” Izzy had said when he had asked him how he managed. “He’s very good at delegating. Keeps the upper hand about half a dozen dependencies all over the North of Scotland. So far he took out everybody who as much as tried to act up against him.” 

“Do you know him?” Duff had asked and gotten a horrified look as a reply. 

“Whenever I have travelled through that area, I’ve been a good little wizard and kept my head down;” Izzy had said. “And if you should ever happen to find yourself up there, you’ll do the same.”

So, yes, their own local member of vampire noblesse was a small fish compared to some of the others. He still was a vampire lord and not to be underestimated, Izzy had said. 

“You don’t survive in that shark pond for four hundred years if you don’t have a few tricks up your sleeve.” 

Duff looked at the drawing again, before he closed the book and put it back. Then he took the lists of their suspects off the table for a trip to the library. It was getting chilly and Kate would have made a fire there before leaving. Hopefully, Slash had remembered to shift now and then and add a bit of coal. Usually, he didn’t bother but started to complain as soon as the fire was out. 

They had been through the lists so often that the pages were dog-eared and stained from greasy fingerprints. For unknown reasons, the corner of a few had been scorched, as if they had gotten into the way of one of Izzy’s experiments. He touched the blackened paper and it crumbled under his fingers. If Izzy burned down all his hard work, he would give him an earful. 

It was not likely that he would stumble over anything new, but staring at vampire pictures for too long made him angry. The knowledge that the man with the small eyes and the blond beard would soon get close enough to Izzy to insert his fangs and drink his blood, was kindling a fury inside him he hadn’t known he was able to muster. It was more than just worry for his lover’s safety. It was a possessiveness he had never felt in all his life. Izzy was his, and only his, and no vampire, no matter how powerful, would get a slice of his wizard. Unfortunately, Izzy saw things differently and didn’t grant him a say in this. Which made Duff even more furious. 

To keep himself from smashing Izzy’s room in a fit of rage, he got more tea and headed over to the library. The fire was almost burned down, but there was enough glowing ember to stoke it back to life. Duff added a few logs and a shovel of coal. 

Slash, who could have joined the meeting, lounged on to the backrest of an armchair. His paws were hanging down on both sides as if somebody had hung him up to dry, and now he waited to be picked off the line.

“Why don’t you go?” Duff asked, not expecting an answer, but to his surprise, Slash stood up and stretched, then jumped down to the seat and shifted. 

Duff took his mug of tea to the couch. He tossed the sheets onto the table and pulled his feet up under himself. 

“What for?” Slash asked. “I already go on patrol every night. And if Izzy thinks he can assign me a partner, he’d better think twice.”

Duff shrugged. “To see what’s happening. How people will react.” Watch Axl in all his glory. “Because you’re part of the community.”

Unlike me, he added bitterly. He tried not to let it get to him, but if he had to write a wish list, being an accepted part of Foxhill’s community would be right on top. One day, he promised himself. So many inhabitants already liked him and treated them as one of theirs. It just hadn’t reached the council, yet. 

“I give a damn about the community,” Slash said. “I do this for Axl and Izzy. Which is already a lot more than I would ever have done for anybody before I came here to live with them.”

Duff looked up from his mug. This was more personal than anything he had ever heard from Slash. 

“What makes them different?” he asked. 

Slash gave him a look from under his curls. “Are you really asking me that?”

Duff nodded. He got along well with Slash, but they barely ever talked. Most of the time, whenever they were alone, he was a cat and stayed a cat. With Izzy, he shifted in case there was anything important to discuss. The only one who got Slash in human form for the fun of it was Axl. 

“Yes,” he said, for emphasis, when he was sure he wouldn’t get a reply. 

“They made me want to stay,” Slash said as if that explained anything. Who wouldn’t want to stay here? It was an awesome place to live. 

He didn’t shift into cat, but it was clear that this was all he was going to offer. Instead of discussing the merits of their housemates, they joked about how the meeting would be going, about who would be more outraged, Axl or the good people of Foxhill. How the councillors could puff themselves up as much as they wanted, they still wouldn’t be a match for Axl in a bout of righteous fury. And Axl, that was clear, would cut them down to size for their lack of support. 

“Don’t feel left out,” Slash said when they heard the doorbell. He stood up and stretched. “I know it’s difficult when you’re a dog, but it’s not worth it.”

“I’m not a dog!” Duff protested. 

Slash cast him a lopsided smile. “Really? You might as well be.”

“What?” Duff stood up, too. “Have you gotten into the catnip again?”

“Oh, come on,” Slash cast a look at the door, his curiosity making it difficult for him to stay. “Need me to enumerate the reasons?”

“Yes!” Duff exclaimed. He wasn’t a dog.

Slash wiped his curls back. “First, you need a pack. You’re not happy without one so you latch onto whoever will have you. Second, you’re ready to protect your pack with your life. Even if you have only joined it … yesterday. Third, you’re quick to accept your alpha’s authority and follow orders. Fourth, do I need to tell you what fourth is?”

Duff bristled. “Yes!” he said. 

“Fourth, you’re cute and floppy and cuddly and always hungry. Give it up, Duff. You’re a dog. Be glad Izzy never bought you a collar.”

He was still searching for the proper retort when Slash was already out of the door and heading towards the shop room. Instead of yelling his outrage after him, he followed to get the latest news. 

Like a dog who was sad after being left at home and was all eager to sniff his master’s trousers to find out where he had been. 

Izzy looked tired as he hung his hat on the hook. His hair was damp from the drizzle outside and curled around his ears. Axl, full of fury, had tossed his coat onto the counter and now stomped past them and up the staircase without as much as a word. Duff picked it up and returned it to its hook, just when he heard a door being smashed, followed by a loud scream and something else being tossed against the wall.

“What’s up?” he asked timidly. “It didn’t go well?” 

Izzy shrugged. “We’ve got less than half a dozen volunteers. Two of the older Harris boys, to make up for Bessie’s glitch, I suppose. Robert Wilkins. Do you know him?”

Duff nodded. He had been dating the impossible Carrie Hammond. 

“Won’t be worth much in a fight. I mean, he’s a willow sprite. But, yes, beggars can’t be choosers, I’m afraid. Then there’s William from the pub. And Sarah. One of the Dunns. Shapeshifter. Said she’ll talk to her family again to get at least one or two more onto the roster. Actually, she’s likely the most helpful of the bunch. She shifts into an owl, so is nocturnal anyway and can cover a bigger area than we can on foot.”

“That can’t be all!” Duff exclaimed. Five people? Five people of all of Foxhill were willing to support the man who had been protecting them for years? 

Izzy cast him a lopsided grin. “Looks like it is.”

“No!” Duff was glad he had left the mug in the library because he would have smashed it. “No, that’s …”

“Hush,” Izzy wrapped his arms around him, and he buried his head against his shoulders. 

This had been his idea. How could it go so wrong? He had been sure that everybody would be willing to help out. 

“The council didn’t make it easy for us. Kept stressing how dangerous it would be and how it would be a lot better if everybody just stayed home after dark.”

“What about Sally?” Duff asked, his voice muffled against Izzy’s shirt. 

“She’s too young. We’re not taking anybody under twenty-one.”

“But …,”

“No,” Izzy replied. “Yes, there were quite a few kids who were ready to sign up. Most of them because of you, by the way. And I know you’re only a year past the limit yourself, but that’s where I draw the line. I’m not going to send children into a war.”

Duff swallowed his protests. The army took them younger, he wanted to say, but it was Izzy’s decision. 

Later, when they were lying in bed, breathing a little heavier from their exertions, the topic came up again. 

“Give it time,” Izzy said. “I’m sure a few more will come forward. And if not, this is already more than we had yesterday. At least I can bluff about having an army behind me when we go to the meeting. A tiny army, sure, but, hey, semantics, right?”

He didn’t have to elaborate on which meeting they were talking about. 

“You could pretend anyway,” Duff said. “How should they know?”

Izzy opened his arms and Duff settled, head resting on his chest, smooth skin under his cheek, and the slightly elevated heartbeat in his ear. His hand travelled down to where Izzy, after Duff had asked him to, no longer glamoured the scar. He had meant it as a sign of acceptance, but now Izzy took pains to keep it hidden, made always sure that his shirt wouldn’t ride up, when before he hadn’t cared that much. Maybe glamouring had been less trouble for him. 

“I have to be careful with lying,” Izzy said. “Somebody might have tipped them off. About you and me, for example. I mean, how should they even know? And who had the idea to target Bessie, of all people? Whoever did that will surely pass on information about my … very tiny army.”

“You mean…,” Duff looked up and searched Izzy’s face for an indication that he was kidding. 

But he nodded. “I think there is a mole somewhere.”

“Shit.” Duff dropped back onto Izzy’s chest. “Who would do something like that? I mean, make a deal with vampires?”

He felt Izzy’s hand in his hair, moving through the sweaty strands until it settled on his shoulder. 

“Some vampires like to form networks. Ashwin might not be one of the big players, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have one or two important people on his paylist. Non magicals, usually, who cover up for them, influence politics the way they like. The guy who hosts the meeting in Crayton? Sir Alexander Pierce, is a Peer. I did some research on him and it looks as if his gambling habit is a tad problematic. It’s a bit worrying, to be honest. That Ashwin now goes down this road.”

“And you really think somebody in Foxhill…”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “Blackmail is a sharp weapon. Fear. Tell somebody you’ll go after their children. And do they really trust their incompetent wizard to keep them safe when for months now vampires come and go as they please? Keep them in at night? Sure, ever heard of human minions? Or greed. Money. Ambition. Being the protégé of a powerful vampire lord can have its benefits.”

Duff groaned against Izzy’s skin. Couldn’t anything be ever easy and straight forward? Did they need people stabbing their backs on top of all the other trouble they were facing on a daily basis?

“Do you have an idea?” he asked. 

“No.” 

Izzy’s fingered travelled down his spine, leaving pleasant tingles in their way. Was that magic? But why now, after they were done? So far, he hadn’t made good on his promise to include magical sensations into their routine. In fact, lately, their intimate life had been more comforting than spectacular. 

“It’s also possible that Jacob did his research. But I doubt people will approach a stranger and blurt out all our internal affairs. Especially as I really try to keep our … relationship under wraps. For just this reason, among others. I’m not keen on turning you into more of a target than you already are. So, this whole scenario of approaching Bessie to curse you to get me out of the way, that reeks of insider knowledge. It’s far too complex to cook up without additional information. Somebody must have provided those.”

“How do we find out?” Duff asked. 

Izzy shrugged. “We likely won’t.”

“But…,”

“I told you,” Izzy interrupted him. “Don’t trust anybody outside this house. That’s all we can do.”

Duff sighed. There went his dreams of one day being part of this awesome, close-knit community. Where people didn’t shy away from selling each other to vampires. 

Holy Saturday was a glum, but blessedly dry day. Duff wouldn’t have been up for another wet journey in James Coopers’ open horse cart, not when they would have to appear in front of a bunch of vampires looking like drowned gutter rats. 

Izzy, a cigarette dangling from his lips, held the reins, Axl, in one of his more practical dresses, sat next to him, holding Slash in his lap. That left the bed for Duff. Legs stretched out he leant against the wooden sides and tried to not puke from nervousness. The journey took several hours, yet they hardly exchanged more than a dozen words. Their roles had been clarified before. Everybody would stay back and leave everything to Izzy. 

“You can all inform me about your displeasure once we’re out,” he had said. 

In case Izzy was down for the count, the command went over to Axl. If Axl was down for the count, too, everybody still standing should run for their lives. It sounded like a well-thought-out plan to Duff.

The only one in a splendid mood was Mabel. After a day’s rest on Good Friday, she was grateful for a bit of fresh air and being out in the fields for a change, had her snort and dance like a filly. 

Crayton was a grey little village like there were hundreds of grey little villages everywhere. It didn’t even have a church. They passed right through on its only road and went on for two more miles until the estate showed up in a lush valley, situated against the backsplash of the looming brown plateau that was the moor. A black cloud front, sharp-edged, and full of promise, hovered over the hills, while the lowlands still enjoyed sunshine and blue sky. He thought about the cottage on the moor, which was not that far from here. Suddenly he wished he could take Izzy and drag him up there until the storm had blown over. 

They rattled up to the entrance. Izzy tossed the reins into Axl’s direction and jumped off the box. As everybody else stayed put, Duff did, too. 

“I’m here for the negotiations,” Izzy told the first footman who approached them, not bothering to introduce himself, not pretending to be here for anything but a meeting with a horde of vampires. 

The staff, it seemed, had been informed. Axl elicited a moronic smile from the poor man, but nobody batted an eyelash when Slash, tail high, whiskers forward, strode past them. It was still a few hours until dusk and for the time being, they were shown into a guest suite to refresh themselves. Food and tea were provided and Izzy dragged it all to the huge bed. Without taking off his dirty boot, he pulled his feet up onto the comforter and started eating. 

“You’re really hungry,” Duff said astonished when Izzy stuffed himself with roast beef sandwiches. 

The food was delicious, and he didn’t mind tucking in either. Even Slash had bothered to shift for the meal. But in Duff’s biased opinion, Kate’s skills surpassed those of the unknown cook, and at home Izzy only ever picked at his food. 

“Can’t afford an empty stomach,” Izzy said through a mouth full of bread and meat. “Makes it more likely that I’ll faint. And I’m not going to give the bastard that satisfaction.”

Duff lost his appetite. Right. They might be eating now, but in a few hours, Izzy would be part of the menu. 

“Anybody who needs to catch up on sleep, now would be a good opportunity,” Axl said when they had polished off their plates. “When we’re done here, it’s time to leave as fast as possible. Unless you’ll be able to stay awake – and I mean awake, alert and functioning, not forcing yourself to keep your eyes open – until morning, I suggest, close your eyes for an hour.”

“I can keep watch,” Slash said. “I slept for most of the ride here.”

It was more dozing than sleeping, and when somebody shook him, Duff felt less awake than before. Izzy handed him a cup of tea. It was fresh and hot and Duff was shocked that he hadn’t noticed its delivery. Maybe he had slept deeper than he had thought. 

“What’s the time?” he asked and looked around for a clock. He didn’t find one, but oil lamps were burning and darkness was falling quickly outside the window. 

“Half an hour,” Izzy said. “Last chance for … whatever.”

Half an hour. It was the blow he had needed to come fully awake.


	20. Well Met

Izzy might have thought his instructions to ‘just stand back and let him handle everything’ were detailed enough, but when another footman led them to the actual meeting room, Duff felt woefully unprepared. What did ‘stand back’ even mean? Was he supposed to stand next to Izzy, but be silent? Behind him? Ten feet away? Ten yards? 

In the end, the narrowness of the corridor saved him. Axl strode on next to Izzy as if he belonged there, and while there was enough room to add a cat, a third person was out of the question. This meant he could hide behind them without it being too obvious. 

Izzy, Duff noticed, held himself differently. Normally he walked with a certain slouch, shoulders rounded, his eyes darting here and there, but never focussing on anything specific. Right now, his back was straight, his head high and his attention turned forward. All that lacked was the sword and Sir Galahad would have been proud to be considered looking like Izzy and not the other way round. And Axl, well, Axl managed to appear regal behind the counter of a spice shop. 

Duff doubted that he was delivering a similar performance. His body felt too tall, too gangly, too out of place. His feet were too big, his knees too wobbly. If he was lucky – and a head or two smaller – nobody would notice that he was there. Even Slash the cat was more impressive as he strode on next to Axl, tail in the air, each dainty step a perfect picture of grace and elegance. 

His stomach refused to comply, too, and instead of settling, it tied itself into one knot after the other. The rest of his nervous system gave him pleasure in the form of heatwaves that washed from his head down into his belly and up again. And his heart … He hoped dearly that it was only a rumour that vampires heard their prey’s heartbeat because if they could, there was no way he would be able to hide his agitation. In fact, they would probably kick him out of the room because the hectic boom-boom disturbed their discussions. 

They didn’t have to go far. Duff wouldn’t have minded taking a turn around the house, but here they were, at the end of the corridor, in front of a double door. The footman knocked, opened and stepped aside to allow them in. 

The vampires had awaited them and while Duff may not be a seasoned diplomat, he was well aware that having the chance to claim the territory before the adversarial delegation arrived, was an advantage. 

A quick glance around assured them that there weren’t any corners that may hide additional people. The long table in the middle, a chair at the head, more chairs to the sides, was clearly an addition to what was usually used as some type of sitting room. Upholstered furniture, which might under normal circumstances take up the room, was pushed to the walls and the same amazing number of decorations and knickknacks every rich household seemed to need to function, graced open shelves, display cabinets and bowlegged tiny tables.

The hardwood floor gleamed under the light from the ensconced oil lamps and heavy curtains blocked the view through what had to be a large window front. Raindrops hammered against the panes and now and then a gust of wind howled in the chimney, competing with the crackling from the open fireplace. The room smelled of burning resin. 

After entering, he hesitated for a moment, forced out a breath he had been holding for at least a minute, and counted four men and one woman. None of them was Ashwin. Izzy halted his steps for a moment, too, then he caught himself and walked past the first four of the group and towards the man at the back. 

Something was wrong. 

Duff knew Izzy well enough and the sudden rigidness in his shoulders caused his alarm bells to ring. Did Ashwin’s absence mean this was a trap? Who would even know that he had broken an armistice? Nobody knew they were here! 

He stared at the fifth man, who seemed slightly familiar. Duff racked his brain where he might have met him before, but the memory stayed outside his reach. He was almost as tall as Izzy, upright and broad shouldered. His posture reminded Duff of the soldiers he had seen on his way over to England. Short cropped, dark hair surrounded the usual regular features. Large, brown eyes perfectly counteracted the aquiline nose and strong chin, and kept his face from appearing too hard. 

When Izzy stopped a step away from him, a smile played around his thin-lipped mouth and just when Izzy commenced speaking, Duff knew where he had seen this face. The realisation was almost too much for his wobbly knees, and he wondered if it would be considered rude if he fainted and woke up once the meeting was over. 

“Claudius,” Izzy said. “What a lovely surprise to see you here.” 

The vampire’s smile broadened as if they were good friends who happened to run into each other at Lady Elvira’s afternoon tea. He stretched out a hand, and Izzy took it without hesitation. 

“Mr Stradlin,” he said. “I had so often planned to pay my new neighbours a visit, but … you know how it goes. Business. Imagine how delighted I was to receive your invitation. The perfect opportunity to make up for my negligence.”

They held eye contact for a moment longer than was necessary before the first trial of strength ended with a tie.

“My apologizes for not following your original request for a meeting, but I was … otherwise engaged. However, I am pleased that we managed to arrange this encounter. It makes so much more sense to talk in person than sending messengers back and forward.”

Izzy cocked his head. “How is Ashwin doing? I hope all is well?”

Claudius raised a single eyebrow. “He is, how do they say, dust in the wind.”

“My condolences.” With a short nod of the head, Izzy acknowledged what he must have expected. “How long ago, if I may ask?”

“Oh, a few months.” Claudius made a negligent hand gesture. “We’re all past the worst of the grieving.”

“And here they say, good news travel fast,” Izzy replied. 

Duff’s brain went into overdrive as he searched for any information he remembered about Claudius. Roman soldier under Hadrian, rank of centurion. Stationed at the wall and turned after his maniple had attacked what had been considered a Brigantian bolthole, but had in fact been a vampire’s nest. Claudius had impressed them with his courage and fighting skills, and so they had decided to turn instead of killing him.

“At least, that is the legend,” Izzy had said. “He might have made it all up himself. Take away message is, he’s old as shit, and about just as dangerous.”

And now he was standing in front of them. Or rather, walking towards Axl, Slash and him. 

“The lovely Miss Rose,” he said when the reached Axl. “I am honoured to finally make your acquaintance. I have received the most extraordinary reports about your skills and always felt a keen wish to get to know such a remarkable … person.”

“I’d love to profess the same,” Axl said and took the offered hand. He was not as good at keeping his countenance as Izzy, and when Claudius kissed it, a soft tremor travelled down Axl’s spine. “But vampire lore has never been part of my specific interests. That’s more Izzy’s line of expertise.”

Claudius, not at all offended, acknowledged the affront by inclining his head before he moved on to Duff whose wish to spend this meeting melting into the background had just received a shot in the head. Instead, he had to play nice with a vampire who was three steps ahead of them, simply by being not who they had him expected to be. 

“Mr McKagan, I assume,” Claudius said. 

“None other,” Duff replied and extended his hand. “I’m surprised you have heard of me.”

“Of course, I have,” he said, and for the first time, a touch of arrogance sneaked into his so far cordial, if grandiose tone. 

Yes, of course, he had. He had sent Jacob to curse him and now Jacob was dead and the real culprit stood with a self-assured smile in front of him. Yet none of them would raise as much as a hand against him. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Izzy had been right. Somebody had sold them and not only once. 

Duff almost pulled back when ice-cold fingers touched his skin, but caught himself in time. Hopefully, his hand wasn’t too damp. When a thumb brushed lightly over his pulse point, he knew he had given himself away. Not that it mattered. Claudius, though several inches smaller, eyed him as one would a precocious child, with an indulgent smile and the thought that the poor kid would have more fun playing outside with his peers, instead of sitting still and listening to the adults. 

Finally, he turned to Slash who sat between Duff and Axl. For a moment Duff thought Claudius would bend down to shake his paw. Instead, he pressed his hands together and inclined his head in a far Eastern form of greeting. An indication that he knew, Slash had travelled the East India route, just as each single word he had said was aimed at letting them know how well-informed he was about them and how little they knew about their adversaries. 

And their inadequate, bumbling replies put them not three, but ten steps back. They couldn’t retaliate as they had no idea who anybody else in this room was. As Claudius did not bother to introduce his subordinates, they would have to ask and give away how unprepared they were. In fact, pretending the other vampires did not matter was all that was left to them. 

“Right,” Izzy was leaning against one of the chairs and watched the heart-warming little scene. “The night is short and we have a lot to discuss. I suggest we start.”

Abruptly, he pushed himself away from his support and with pretended self-confidence, claimed the seat at the head of the table. Duff almost had to stifle a smile. Izzy had lost the dominant role during the introductions, he would, of course, try to regain it for the negotiations. 

But Izzy was no diplomat. He may play games with Constable Carter, at home, in his own library, but this was a different league. Claudius was almost two millennia old, and he had surely dominated his opponents in similar situations hundreds of times. Suddenly Duff really feared that the outcome might not be whatever Izzy had hoped for. 

Claudius watched him for a moment, and while he did not smile, there was amusement in his eyes. As if he enjoyed Izzy’s antics or like one applauded when a trained animal performed its little tricks. He could indulge this young, inexperienced wizard and grant him his moment of impertinence because soon he would put him back into his place. Slowly he headed for the table, pulled out the chair towards Izzy’s right and offered it seat to Axl. 

“Miss Rose,” he said, and for a second his eyes turned soft. Duff hoped the spell also worked on vampires. It might give them a chance to escape when all this blew up into the night sky. 

Axl gritted his teeth and took the seat. Duff quickly sat next to him and Slash hopped onto the table, posing upright and statuesque, and watching from amber eyes. 

The vampires lined up on the opposite side, the woman next to Claudius, then one of the men. The other two remained at the door. A carafe filled with water provided the only type of refreshment, and when all the screeching of chair legs finally stopped, Claudius poured himself a glass. He took a sip and put it down. Duff was surprised. He had assumed vampires would exclusively drink blood. Maybe this was a demonstration that the water wasn’t poisoned, but what would it prove? There likely were a lot of substances that knocked humans out right away while vampires remained unaffected. 

“I apologize for the lack of alcoholic drinks,” he said. “But…” he looked at Izzy, “… with regard to the final … transaction I would prefer to receive the product … unadulterated.”

“I only drink with friends,” Izzy said. “We are here to talk. Which … can we start? Maybe? Or is there anything else we have to take care of first? My apologies for my lack of proper behaviour, but I’m not that well versed in questions of etiquette.” 

He was getting nervous, and Duff wished he could do something. Hold his hand, for example. But while Izzy might fear that his chances for a favourable outcome were dwindling, Duff feared that they wouldn’t make it out alive. 

Claudius made a benevolent hand gesture that indicated for Izzy to start. 

“Thank you,” Izzy said sweetly. “Foxhill. Or rather, Whittlingsfield. The constant trespassing is going on my nerves. I would rather not have to increase my … endeavours, but I almost see myself forced to show more presence than I like.” 

Claudius nodded solemnly. “My people still need a little time to adapt to the new leadership,” he said. “Sadly, the late Ashwin, God keep his soul, was a bit lax when it comes to questions of discipline. With time I should be able to rectify this issue.”

“Yes, pity,” Izzy leant back and folded his hands over his belly. Duff noticed how he consciously relaxed his shoulders, a trick he had seen him play before. His eyes were on Claudius, pretending none of the others as much as mattered to him. “I showed a lot of patience with your authority issues. I’m a bit fed up with having to shoot vampires every few weeks. Those bullets are nothing you can buy in the next shop. They have to be manufactured and are slowly turning into a very unwelcome drain on my grocery budget.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Claudius replied. “I surely will talk to my people again. As I said …,”

“Yes, it takes time.” 

Izzy started to bristle. Far too early. The sudden change of discussion partner had unsettled him more than he had led on, but how he wanted to get through a whole night of diplomatic mind games when his nerves were frayed before the introductions had been finished, Duff didn’t know. Belatedly, he realized that negotiations like these should be led by the council, not by Izzy. Why hadn’t anybody thought about that? 

It went back and forth like that for about an hour. Izzy eventually caught himself and managed to regain his usual, impenetrable expression. He demanded Whittlingsfield to be declared a forbidden zone and Claudius nodded and said that surely his people would soon adapt to the new situation. He remained cool and unfazed while Izzy kept running head forward into the walls he erected.

After a while, Duff noticed something else. Claudius’ poker face was slipping far less often than Izzy’s, but now and then it did. Only what Duff saw didn’t make sense. 

He had expected anger. Annoyance with this cocky, unimportant little wizard. Maybe amusement with regards to the cat and mouse game they were playing. But what he spotted looked like respect. Now and then he even seemed impressed. 

Duff had nothing to do except wondering about what was going on and eventually it clicked. Claudius may have turned to the field of networking and diplomacy as the easier way to success, but once upon a time, he had been a Roman soldier. Even the legends made up about him talked of bravery and fighting skills. Izzy had both in spades. 

Coming here, into the middle of the lion’s den, armistice or not, that was not only bravery, it bordered on daredevilry. Or had passed on into total lunacy, depending on how Duff felt about it at that specific moment. Claudius was able to respect that. Not on a level a man might esteem the merits of an equal, rather like a well-versed artist would watch a prodigy play his instrument. He saw potential and he appreciated it. Now and then, when Izzy’s face turned hard, and he added another sugar-coated threat, Claudius’ eyes sparkled and his mouth softened for a moment as if he had just listened to an especially virtuous rendition of his favourite piece of music. 

The difference between them was obvious and Izzy had to be aware that he was losing his battle. Claudius might grant him his requests or he might not, but it had little to do with what Izzy did and didn’t say. Things might look less unbalanced in case they were really pulled into war and if Izzy really managed to get the people of Foxhill behind himself. Which was not likely, as a week later the tiny army had increased to no more than eight volunteers. 

Here, on the other hand, on the battlefield of diplomacy, Izzy was outgunned. He possessed neither the patience nor the duplicity that was needed to get a foot into the door. It would be easy for Claudius to take advantage of this lack of skills, but Duff got the feeling that it was another character trait he valued. Izzy’s blunt, straight forward, no-nonsense attitude might make life difficult for him in each and every council meeting, but Claudius had once spoken the same language. They may be divided by two thousand years of experience, but below that, if one ignored that one was a wizard fighting the good fight, and the other an evil vampire, they were not that different. 

When Duff started to wonder how much longer Izzy would take it before he slammed the door behind himself and hitched Mabel to her cart, Claudius seemed to tire of the game, too. Or maybe he had had enough opportunity to assess Izzy’s personality by pushing him to the brink of defeat. Having him run off may not be part of his plan. He laid his hands against each other and rested his chin on his fingertips. 

“I can make you an offer,” he said. 

Izzy quieted. He looked unhappy, swaying between anger and resignation and Duff noticed how he chewed on the inside of his lower lip. In the sudden silence, Duff heard the rain hammering against the window.

“I could inform my people that the … transition period is over and I am no longer willing to show leniency.”

“That would be nice,” Izzy said. He folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for the ‘but’. 

“As quid pro quo I would suggest that we draw a firm line and everybody …” he gave Izzy a long, hard look, “stays on their side of the line. And I would suggest the city limits of Whittlingsfield.”

Izzy frowned. “You’re not going to lock me into my own town.”

“Of course not,” Claudius put his palms flat onto the tabletop. “All I ask for is that outside those limits there won’t be any hostile activities.”

Or in other words: every person not living inside the perimeters of Whittlingsfield would be part of the pantry and Izzy agreed to cease all attempts at protection. Duff’s breath hitched in his throat, and he noticed that Axl had stopped breathing, too. Realistically, this was the outcome they should have hoped for. Izzy was the wizard of Foxhill, at best the wizard of Whittlingsfield, but definitely not the wizard of East Yorkshire. He had time and again told Duff that his reach was limited, that he couldn’t save everybody, that he had to draw the line somewhere. Yet there he sat, pulling at his fingers and struggling with his own convictions. 

“Plus, a two-mile radius around the town,” Izzy said. “Children are sometimes not fully aware of city boundaries.”

He didn’t say it, but this would include Dipperton’s Beach, a tiny stretch of sand, hidden between the cliffs only accessible during ebbtide. It was a popular meeting point for young couples, about a mile outside town. Lovestruck teenagers were not likely to stick to rules just because they might end as vampire food. 

“That,” Claudius said with a gracious tilt of his head. “Is acceptable.”

Izzy rubbed his neck. Then he nodded, the motion curt and abrupt. Neither made moves to shake hands on the deal. Maybe it was not required. 

“To show my commitment to our agreement,” the vampire continued. “I have prepared a … let’s say, a gesture of goodwill.”

He nodded at the two vampires at the door, and one of them left the room. Duff couldn’t keep himself from nervously looking after him, while Izzy, with a fake expression of utter boredom, poured a glass of water. Duff’s own tongue stuck to his palate, but he didn’t dare move and draw attention to himself. He cast a short glance into Axl’s direction and saw relief, carefully hidden under nonchalance. Axl had expected Izzy to reject, and if Duff was honest, he had, too. 

Izzy, for all his display of strength, was exhausted. It was evident from the lines around his mouth and the way sweat curled the tips of his hair around his ears. He had talked more this evening than he usually did in an entire week, and while the deal he had negotiated would make a substantial change to a lot of people’s lives, he surely considered it a defeat. There wouldn’t be any more vampires prowling the streets of Foxhill at night, it would be safe to go out for a drink in the evening, kids would be able to visit their friends after dark. Izzy would still beat himself up for this concession. 

Nobody should complain, Duff thought bitterly. People hadn’t exactly flocked together to have Izzy’s back. He wished he could tell him, but unfortunately, that had to wait. The door was opened again and more people appeared. 

The hairs on Duff’s neck rose. A trap. All this negotiating had been nothing more than a bit of perverted entertainment. Now the complete horde would barge in and tear them apart. He looked around for something to use as a weapon when he felt Axl’s hand on his thigh. They locked eyes, and Axl made a minuscule movement with his head. No. 

Duff gave up on his defence plans and eyed the newcomers. The man who had left a few minutes ago and a second one led a woman between them. Her dress was dirty, her hair stringy. She wore handcuffs, and it took him a moment before he recognized her. The woman who had been after Ella during the equinox festivities. 

He swallowed. So much had happened since that evening, yet the memory was still fresh enough to make bile rise in his throat. He squinted at Izzy, who needed a moment longer to recognize her. But then he did. 

The guards led the woman up to the table until she stood right next to her lord and master. 

“How’s your friend doing?” Izzy asked. His lips twitched a little, but that was all the emotion he had to offer.

She didn’t reply, just stared back with hatred and apprehension. 

“He’s got maybe a week or two left,” Claudius said, not at all disturbed by the fact that Izzy had condemned one of his people to death by starvation. “This,” he made an open-handed gesture at the woman as if presenting a valuable gift, “is Lydia. As I mentioned before, a transition is a difficult period for everybody. She was especially slow to adapt. I was informed she caused offence?”

Izzy shrugged. “No harm done. Luckily my assistant was on-site, and he is well versed in dealing with these little nuisances that tend to crop up.” He cast a tiny smile into Duff’s direction and Duff did his best to not blush, but instead look suitably dignified as if it was indeed an everyday occurrence that he tried to fence vampires in with recalcitrant pigs. 

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Claudius held out his hand. One of the guards pulled a stake out of his jacket and handed it over. Claudius laid it onto the table, the sharp end pointing into the Lydia’s, the blunt end into Izzy’s direction. 

“However, as far as I heard, she spoiled your … and Mr McKagan’s,” he nodded at Duff, “… evening, and forced him to leave the festivities earlier than planned. I deeply apologize for the inconvenience, Mr McKagan.”

Duff wondered if he was supposed to say something. Probably not. Claudius did not seem disappointed by the lack of a polite reply. 

“An action that went against my orders,” he continued in that pompous tone that seemed to be his trademark. “To seal our future engagement, I would like to convey her fate to those she has offended.”

Izzy fixed his gaze on the stake and his fingers closed more firmly around the glass. Duff knew what he felt, the same fury he was currently reliving himself when he thought about how this woman had grabbed Ella’s arm and separated her from her friends. All they had to do was pick up the stake and kill her, and, by God, Duff was ready to do it himself. 

“She’s your responsibility, not mine,” Izzy said and looked at Claudius. “I don’t care what you do with her. Just make sure she doesn’t show her face in my vicinity ever again.”

Relief flickered over Lydia’s face and while Duff knew this was the right decision, that Izzy should under no circumstance play the vampire’s game and definitely not kill with his permission, he resented from the bottom of his heart that she would get away with her crime. 

“As you wish.” Claudius picked up the stake and with a quick backwards movement, without looking at his victim, he rammed it into Lydia’s heart. It went so fast, she didn’t manage more than opening her mouth in surprise before she crumbled to dust. 

Duff swallowed. All his blood had rushed to his stomach and formed clots down there. A little reminder of whom they were dealing with. Message received, he wanted to say aloud. 

“All right.” Claudius stood up and brushed dust off his hands. “I suggest a little break. Say half an hour? In the meanwhile, the staff can take care of the mess in here. A cup of tea would be nice, too. I suppose we still have a lot to discuss.”


	21. Coveted

Back in their room, Izzy tore the window open and held his head out into the rain. Axl dropped onto the bed, fell backwards and covered his eyes. Slash, which was the biggest surprise, shifted into human form. 

Duff closed the door behind them, not sure what to say. 

“Given how it could have gone, I don’t think it was that bad,” was what he finally came up with. 

Izzy straightened and turned around. It was raining so hard that his hair was completely wet and he had to wipe it out of his face in order to look at him. He didn’t bother to close the window, not caring that puddles were already forming on the sill. 

“He dragged me around by my pubic hair!” he spat.

“I don’t think he did,” Duff stuttered. 

He looked to Axl for help, who had sat up, but was still busy smoothing the wrinkles left from too much frowning out of his face. 

“He didn’t,” he confirmed dutifully. 

“He kind of did,” Slash said. 

Axl rolled his eyes. “We’re trying to build him up here for the next round, not tear him down more. That we can do once we’re back home. But, sorry, you’re right. Claudius has a firm grip … down there.” He pointed into the general region of Izzy’s crotch. 

“Awesome,” Izzy muttered. He plopped down next to Axl, fiddled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it with trembling fingers. He sucked until the tip glowed bright green. “What is he even doing here?”

“Killing Ashwin and taking over his nest, obviously,” Axl said. 

Duff didn’t feel like sitting. His muscles were in knots, his shoulders stiff, his back crooked, whether from too much sitting or the hours of tension he couldn’t say. He stepped over to the window and let the wind clear some spiderwebs out of his brain. The cold against his back made him realize how much he had been sweating. His shirt stuck uncomfortably to his overheated skin, and he managed to feel too cold and too hot at the same time, just not at the same body parts. 

“This agreement,” he said. “Do you really trust him?”

“Yes,” Izzy said. It sounded more like a sigh than confirmation. “Don’t get me wrong, that man is a monster. But he’s got the reputation to stick to his treaties. He doesn’t make them lightly, but when he does … Let’s say, as long as I keep up my end of it, he will, too. He might count on me not being able to, though. If he starts raiding all around Whittlingsfield …” Izzy rubbed the fingertips of his left hand over the bridge of his nose. “He might try to provoke me into breaking the agreement and then retaliate full force. We may look like a bunch of unregulated maniacs, Duff, but that’s exactly why agreements are taken so seriously. We don’t promise much, but when we do …”

“You have to stick to your side,” Axl said. And then he wrapped an arm around Izzy’s shoulder. It was the first time Duff had ever seen him do something like that. “Do you hear me?” He jostled him lightly. “You have to Izzy. Ashwin was bad enough. Claudius is ten times worse. You can’t beat him. It’s impossible. Be glad he gave you a chance to halfway save your face.”

“It’s not about saving my face!” Izzy shook Axl’s arm off. “It’s about people dying.”

“You got safety for Foxhill,” Axl repeated. “Leave it at that. Nothing to change now. Get over it. Both, your hurt pride and your need to save the world.”

“The question here is,” Slash suddenly said. “Why did he give you so much?” 

He was leaning against a dresser, hair wiped out of his face, looking for once honestly interested instead of peripherally curious. 

“Not to be insulting, but, really Izzy. You’re not big enough to be a danger to him. At best, you’re some type of annoying mosquito. You can take out a few of his subordinates here and there, vex him with guerrilla tactics if you really want to, but above that? Keeping him out of Foxhill would have you running day and night without any time to care about anybody living outside town limits anyway.”

“I know,” Izzy almost swallowed his cigarette in an attempt to get more smoke into his lungs. “But I had no time to think about it. I was busy talking myself into trouble. But, yes, I need to give that some more thought once we’re home.”

“I had nothing else to do but think about it,” Axl said. He tossed his hair back over his shoulder and turned into Izzy’s direction. “Slash is right, you cannot defeat him, but you can be pretty irritating. And you’re stubborn. Claudius knows you won’t just lay down arms and give up. You might not be powerful enough to destroy him, but you can diminish his forces. He might be able to destroy you in the long run, but he’d have to put in quite a bit of time and effort.”

“Yes,” Slash said. “And I think that’s what he’s trying to avoid. Effort. Or time. Or both.”

“You mean,” Duff said as the puzzle pieces inside his head fell into place, “he can’t afford having to constantly grapple with Izzy. But if he is willing to give Izzy all of Whittlingsfield just to get him out of his hair, what other front is he fighting at?”

“Yep,” Slash said. 

“And aren’t vampires rather … sedentary?” he continued, as he spun the idea further. “I mean, he was turned as a Roman soldier near Carlisle. And two thousand years later, he was still there. He rules the Lakeland, right?”

“Most of Cumbria, actually,” Axl said. “And, yes, that’s bothering me a lot. I can see him take out Ashwin and install one of his stalwart supporters in Yorkshire, but coming over himself?”

“Maybe just until everything is arranged to his liking,” Duff suggested. It was wishful thinking, but a man could dream. “Hopefully, he plans to go back home afterwards.”

Izzy rubbed his neck. “He didn’t introduce us to any kind of proxy. He would have done that if he was planning to leave soon. Make sure we have our contact person now that we are ... business partners of sort.”

“Guys, am I the only one here thinking in this direction?” Slash asked. 

Izzy and Axl both pulled a face, as if they knew what he was talking about.

“Claudius left the Scottish border to kill another lord and take over his beat. I guess we all agree that he was forced to do it. And who do we think about when we hear ‘Scotland’?”

“McPherson,” Izzy said darkly. “But so far south? Wouldn’t we have heard ... dunno ... something? Tales of gore and blood shed, for example?”

Axl snorted. “We haven’t even heard that our own local vampire lord had been exchanged months ago.”

“It also explains why he doesn’t want to deal with you at his Eastern flank” Slash went on. “He’s struggling to keep the Western front closed. With you out of the way, he can set up his food supply lines to the East and up to the borders of Whittlingsfield. Without having to worry about turning his back on you because you will stay at home like the good little wizard you are.”

Izzy nodded, looking utterly defeated. “I hate to say, but that makes sense. Especially as he must know that I would never have agreed if I had known he was struggling on both ends.” He forced out a disgusted laugh. “I could have asked for a ten mile radius and he would have agreed. That bastard played me. And I let it happen.”

“He didn’t give you a chance to sort out your thoughts,” Axl said. He put is arm once more around Izzy’s shoulders and this time he allowed it. “That’s why he played this whole game with you. Not letting you know whom you were meeting, having you talk and talk and talk without saying much himself. He made sure he could push you into an agreement before you realized that you had the upper hand. Or at least a less inferior hand than you thought you had. Yes, he bluffed. But he bluffed damned well. I did nothing but sit around and I still didn’t realize what he was up to.”

“What would that even mean for us?” Duff asked. “I mean, is that normal? Vampire royalty killing each other like that?”

Alistair McPherson had been this bogeyman, up in the Northwest Highlands and now he was showing up … not yet on their doorstep, but the next doorstep over.

“It means,” Izzy said darkly, “that a vampire war is looming. And while it might sound nice to have them go at each other for a change, the collateral damage can be massive. They’ll have to recruit more and more recruits means more food is needed. They’ll get less careful about picking victims. And in the end, one of them will come out on top and that one will be incredibly powerful.”

He extinguished his cigarette by burning a hole into the bedpost before snipping the butt onto the carpet. Then he rubbed his fingertips over his eyes and Duff wondered if he was developing a headache. 

“Plus, if getting Alistair McPherson as my new neighbour is a serious possibility, I’ll happily throw a birthday party for Claudius every goddamn year.” 

“It’s speculation,” Axl said. “Everything. Might be he didn’t like the weather in Carlisle anymore, might be he thought Ashwin’s mansion was prettier than his own. Maybe we can still call ourselves lucky with the deal we got. Doesn’t matter at the moment because: next round. What is coming?”

Izzy shrugged. “Not much. I get to ask questions, he should answer them.”

“Yes, yes,” Axl waved his hand impatiently through the air. “I mean, your starring role as midnight snack. Which reminds me.”

He stood up and fetched the bag he had brought along, pulled out a silvery flask and handed it to Izzy. 

“Drink.”

Izzy opened the lid and sniffed. “Whisky? You’re telling me to get drunk? You? When you’re always fighting to keep me sober?”

“Not drunk!” Axl replied. “But Claudius want’s your blood clean, so that’s not what he’ll get. Maybe alcohol interferes with whatever he’s planning to do to you. So, drink. Just enough to make sure you have a bit in your blood, not so much you pass out on the table.”

“There’s not enough in here fore that anyway.” Izzy brought the flask to his mouth and tipped his head back as he drank. 

“That’s enough,” Axl said after Izzy had swallowed a few times. 

Izzy kept drinking, until Axl tore the flask out of his hand, capped it and put it away. 

“What do you mean, ‘whatever he’s planning to do to you’?” Duff asked nervously. “I thought it was about getting Izzy addicted.”

“That was when we thought we were still dealing with Ashwin,” Axl said. “He is … was … not of the overly imaginative type. Claudius? He insisted to get the blood off the vein, and now he’s making a show about getting it clean. That means he has a reason. He’s planning something. He always is planning something. That’s his main characteristic, so it’s a given that he is planning something now, too.”

“Humiliation?” Izzy asked. “Honestly, that might be all that is behind it. To show me that he’s the top dog. He can tell me to bleed for him and he can decide what I do and don’t get to drink.”

“No,” Duff said. He shivered a little in the cold. His hands were icy, but he didn’t close the window. It helped him think a bit clearer than had been possible in the warmth of the meeting room. “He doesn’t want to humiliate you. He likes you.”

“He what?” Izzy gave him a confused look. 

“He likes you,” Duff repeated. 

“I agree,” Slash said. “And that’s what worries me.”

“Vampires don’t like anybody,” Axl said. “They are not able to.”

“This one is,” Duff said again. “I’m sure of it.” 

“Really Duff,” Axl said. “I know it’s hard to understand, but not everybody is in love with Izzy.”

Izzy rolled his eyes. 

“I was thinking,” Slash said, and Duff wondered how dire the situation was if he was contributing so much to the discussion. “What if he is planning to turn you? Not today. I agree, he will honour the armistice, but he might try to prepare you somehow. For later. Turning a wizard. That would be quite the feat.”

Izzy shrugged. “It wouldn’t help him. All he’d get is my body, not my abilities.”

“Yes, yes,” Slash waved the comment off. “The good old theory that all vampires are clones of each other and nothing of the original person remains.”

“They are,” Izzy and Axl said in unison. 

“That may be true for the small fry,” Slash said. “But the big ones? Sorry, Izzy, but whatever that guy in there is, he’s not the same as the type you get to shoot every day. He’s got personality. Not one I like, but you can’t deny that he’s got one.”

“Yes. Kind of,” Izzy admitted grudgingly. 

“I know shit about how vampires are made,” Slash went on, “but the likes of Claudius? Wanna hear my theory? It’s not scientifically solid or anything, mind you, so maybe not what you always read in your books.”

Axl shrugged. “There isn’t much scientifically solidly known about vampires, so your theory is as good as anybody else’s. The demon theory, however is pretty well founded. Most of them are indeed similar to each other, you can’t deny that.”

“I’m not saying it’s completely wrong,” Slash said. “But from what I have seen so far, some of them get to keep a bit of what they were. Claudius? Even after two thousand years he screams Roman soldier. How can that be when the Roman soldier was erased?”

Axl shrugged. “Habit?”

“He shouldn’t have a habit if only the body survives,” Duff said. Maybe it was easier for him because he had no scientific knowledge about vampires either, but when he compared Claudius to Lydia, he couldn’t see too many similarities between those two. Something was not fully plausible. “I have noticed the Roman soldier, too. It’s how I recognized him.”

“You did?” Izzy asked surprised, but also delighted. 

Duff beamed. “You gave me the book. I’ve read it.”

“Yes, good dog!” Slash said impatiently.

Duff wanted to show him his tongue, but that would have been childish. 

“I guess it takes quite a bit of personality to resist the demon that’s taking you over. And I’m sure not everybody manages. But some do, if not fully. They end up amalgamated with the demon, something like that. A personality mesh if you like. But they come out stronger than your everyday vampire for it. And, yes, Duff might be biased, but I agree with him. Claudius likes what he sees. Because, Izzy, you’re stubborn as hell, and you might be one of those who manage to keep enough of themselves after transformation to be more than just canon fodder. If Claudius is leading a war, he might look for recruits like you.”

“It’s a pretty wild theory,” Izzy mumbled around the new cigarette he was lighting. He didn’t flat out deny Slash’s idea though. 

“I know. Still. Keep it in mind. What can he do during feeding to prepare you? Can he make you … susceptible to the idea, for example?”

Izzy snorted. “What, so that I’ll run back, and ask him to pretty please make me a vampire? Not likely. Look, this is leading nowhere. There’s nothing I can do. I agreed to the feeding and it will happen. I doubt he will kill me or turn me or do anything similar.”

“Maybe not this time,” Duff said. “But the next.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Izzy tried to run a hand through his wet hair and pulled a face when his fingers got stuck in the snares. “Why should there be?”

“For the same reason we have this time,” Duff replied. Was it that difficult to see? “Because you need information. Claudius has made it clear that he is willing to bargain with you. And you have made it clear that you’re willing to pay. Why shouldn’t there be a next time?”

“It’s only this time because we are dealing with necromancers and vampires kind of are necromancers,” Izzy said. He looked annoyed at the suggestion that there should be a repeat, when Duff still thought it was obvious why at least Claudius might consider it. 

“He is two thousand years old.” Maybe this was not the time to talk about what might or might not happen in a year or two or whenever, but why refused Izzy to see the risks? “The knowledge he has amassed must be impressive. The next time you need to know something you might be faster to go to him. Especially as you now know that he is amenable to trading off his knowledge.”

“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Izzy asked. But he didn’t look annoyed anymore, rather astonished. 

Duff nodded. 

Izzy blew out smoke. “I won’t go again because I know how dangerous it is. I have never been bitten by a vampire and I have no idea how it feels or what will happen. But I have seen what it does to people and I do know that the side effects increase each time.”

“You are not exactly famous for taking good care of yourself,” Duff said softly. 

He was reasonably sure that Izzy had seen what opium did to people, too, and that the side effects increased with each pipe. It hadn’t kept him away from it either, so why should it keep him away from Claudius if he thought it might help him solve a case? 

“And you do take a lot of risks if you think it’s worth the pain. I’m … not really convinced that you’d just stay back from this huge source of information just because it might damage your health.”

Izzy pulled his lips into a pout before he stuck the cigarette back between them. 

“Duff is right,” Axl said.

“Really, Axl…”

“And Slash, too. And you’re right, too, we have no idea. It’s all just speculation. Still. Keep it in mind. And, Izzy, I know we talked about it before, but promise: if you notice changes, not only a craving for the next hit, but anything that might be different, thoughts you’ve never had before, sudden needs, anything. You’ve got to tell us.”

“What?” Izzy almost dropped the cigarette. He saved it by quickly pressing his lips against each other. “Like, suddenly I like cauliflower?” 

“If that should be the case, then, yes.”

Izzy chuckled. “I’ll make sure to keep you informed about my dietary needs.”

Axl didn’t reply, just kept staring.

Duff agreed. He was beyond worried, too. Why did everybody always have to be after his lover? First Dr Rowland, then Bessie Harris, and now a vampire lord wanted to claim him? What was wrong with people? Didn’t they get it that Izzy was his wizard? 

Suddenly he felt the same possessive burn in his chest again, and for a moment he wished he had grabbed that stake off the table and rammed it into Claudius’ heart. Sure, if he had they would all be dead now, but it would have solved a few problems on the way. 

“I promise,” Izzy said. He burned another hole into the bedframe. “Come on, guys, let’s get ready for round two.”


	22. Informed and Consenting

Duff wondered if lambs on their way to the slaughter felt like he did as they headed back to the meeting room. A servant hurried past them, in his hand a dustpan full of Lydia’s remains. Duff swallowed. Then he kicked himself. The man might have as well swept up a bit of ash around the fireplace. 

“Are we early?” he asked when they entered the empty room. 

He carried Axl’s satchel over his shoulder that contained also his writing utensils. Izzy had tasked him with taking notes on anything of import Claudius might disclose. Duff hoped he would be able to write fast enough. He still sometimes stumbled over longer words.

The fire was stoked, the air felt fresher. Somebody had pulled the curtains back when opening the windows. Raindrops were running down the glass in front of a pitch-black night. Duff hoped the storm would ease off before they returned. The idea of travelling home in an open horse cart in this weather was not a solacing one. 

“No,” Izzy said. “Making your opponent wait because his comforts are of no concern to you is a common tactic to show your dominance.”

“Oh.” Maybe Izzy knew more about diplomacy than he was letting on. “Does it work?”

“With me?” Izzy grinned. “No. But that’s because Claudius still wants something from me. He won’t get his pound of flesh … pint of blood I mean, before he has answered all of my questions. I don’t care how much time he wastes. I’ll neither hurry nor cut myself short. It’s not likely to take all night, but if we run into sunrise, that’s his problem, not mine. But I suppose these little games are so ingrained into him that he can’t stop himself from playing them. Which is a weakness, by the way, because it makes him predictable.”

“He does have weaknesses?” Duff asked. “He seems like a block of granite to me.”

“Everybody has weaknesses, Duff,” Izzy said a little distracted.

Tea things were arranged on one of the side table, and he went over to pour himself a cup. His fingers were still icy-stiff and his writing might be more fluent if he warmed them up a bit. He wrapped his hands around the china instead of holding the cup by its handle while he sipped. The tea was strong and hot on his tongue. Then he heard footsteps outside and quickly put the cup down onto the table. 

Claudius marched in with such pomp that Duff expected fanfares to announce his arrival. Izzy did his best to not react to the dramatic entry, but he too was a little unsettled. Getting the last hours out of his head and concentrating on his questions instead, would be hard on him. 

Chairs screeched again as they all returned to their former places. Axl was quick enough to avoid another episode of vampire gallantry by sitting down faster than the rest of them, but Claudius insisted on providing him with tea. Axl thanked him with a glower and an openly fake smile. 

The more Duff thought about this behaviour, the more did it irritate him. Claudius had his contact person in Foxhill and this person had ratted them out, which meant he knew that Axl wasn’t truly female. Why was he treating him like a woman? To make him feel inferior between all the men? As Claudius made everybody feel inferior just by being present, it seemed a bit over the top. 

He didn’t have time to ponder that question any further because he had to take notes, he reminded himself. 

“So,” Claudius said, not allowing Izzy to try and take charge this time. “The dead are rising in Whittlingsfield, I heard.”

“Seems like it,” Izzy said. 

Duff wondered if he had to write this down, too. He fiddled around with his pencil and hit the teacup. China clattered against china, and he got another one of Claudius’ indulgent looks. One that asked if somebody could please organize a picture book to keep the poor, bored child occupied. 

“As far as I am informed, there are two possibilities to get people out of their graves,” Izzy continued. “Three, but the last one is not relevant here.”

“We try to avoid the grave these days,” Claudius said. “It was once considered a rite of passage, but proved to be traumatic to the fledgling.”

Izzy ignored the quip. “One, the dead person is truly resurrected as in, nothing is added to the corpse. Two, you use the empty shell as a vessel for something else. Which, now that I think about it, makes it two possibilities.”

“Let’s stick with three,” Claudius said, and Duff realized that Izzy was right. Claudius did have a weakness. He was a show-off and being lumped in with some run-of-the-mill resurrected corpse brushed his vanity the wrong way. “Did you see any of the prey in person?”

Izzy nodded. 

“What can you tell me about the aura?”

“Flat,” came the reluctant reply. Izzy was not comfortable with offering information to a vampire, but he would have to if he wanted answers. 

Claudius knew that, too, because now he regarded Izzy with the same indulgent look he usually reserved for Duff. “A few more details, please.”

Izzy linked his fingers on the table and took a deep breath. “Like rubble sinking to the ground. Like clotted milk. It was all close to the body. Nothing moved. Nothing flowed. Just … debris.”

“But … something was still there? The aura was closed?”

Izzy nodded. 

“Then it’s not a resurrection.” He leant back. “At least not if only non-magical people are relevant suspects. You are sure they are indeed all non-magical?”

Izzy shrugged, then looked up from his hands. He swallowed and his shoulders relaxed a little. He had come to a decision. 

“I do not move in those circles, so I can’t say for sure. But it’s not likely that anybody there is magical. Anyway, where’s the difference?”

Claudius exhaled and tilted his head backwards as he sorted his thoughts. Duff scribbled ‘no resurrection’ onto the notepad. It was the last time he got a chance to think about what he was jotting down because when the vampire started, everything went too fast for his literary skills. He resolved to list keywords, keep the rest in mind and add it later from memory.

“Resurrection is not a big issue,” he started. “If you’re magical, there are spells enough to infuse a bit of energy into a corpse. Every wizard should be able. You could do it easily, Miss Rose could do it easily…,” he cast Axl a smile. 

“Any other denominations?” Izzy asked, ignoring the flattery. 

“With the help of transmitters. I’m sure you will be familiar with energy marbles? As an example?”

Izzy nodded. 

“It takes quite a bit of energy to resurrect a body. You need to be able to spare that amount, that’s all. If you can’t transfuse it directly, but know the right spell, then you can use a transmitter. A non-magical person is unable to do that. All they can use is whatever energy is still available in the aura after the person has died.”

“You mean, even a non-magical person would be able to resurrect a corpse directly after death?” 

“Yes.”

Izzy leant forward, suddenly so interested he was forgetting about his reservations regarding dealing with the enemy. It was exactly as Duff had feared. A childhood without proper mentoring had made Izzy obsessed with learning everything there was to learn about magic and here was a person who had a lot to offer. This thirst for knowledge had once driven him into the hands of the Fae, and if he didn’t take care, it would now drive him into the clutches of a vampire. 

“Just like that?” Izzy asked. 

“No, of course not.” Claudius bent forward, too. “They have to abide by the rule of three.”

“Right,” Izzy said when Duff had no idea what the rule of three was. He would have to ask later. 

“Doesn’t matter because I don’t think that’s what you’re dealing with. A non-magical person can not redirect magic. Not even with the help of a transmitter because energy doesn’t obey them. All they can do is use the leftover energy in the aura of a deceased person for as long as it’s still there.”

“And as the aura is not a closed system, once the leftovers are gone the corpse returns to being a corpse.”

“Exactly!” Claudius smiled openly now as if his favourite pupil had drawn the conclusions to a difficult problem all on his own. “It won’t hold longer than a week at best.”

“Right, we’re past that.” Izzy chewed on his lower lip. “The aura doesn’t look like anything was reinfused. More like … “ He rubbed a hand over his neck. “As I said, like spoiled food. Everything clotted and stuck in leftover fluid.”

“That happens when the aura is sealed.” Claudius folded his hands and tipped the thumbs against each other. “You seal the aura and prevent natural energy exchange if you prepare a body for a host. And …,” he raised a finger, “… this is important, you do this before death. In fact, often it is the cause of death.”

Now Duff was sitting upright, too. This was indeed new. It meant the victims had been manipulated before they had died, not simply been brought back to life. 

“These people all died from a natural cause,” Izzy said. 

“Yes, they tend to do that.” Claudius pursed his lips, considering how to explain a difficult concept in easy expressions. “The body shuts down step by step as the energy … congeals might be the best word. Deteriorates. So whatever disease is looming at the back will win.”

“One of the victims broke his spine.” Izzy leant back again in his chair, pulling his lips into a grimace of skepticism. “It was a horse accident.”

“Doesn’t change anything.” Claudius cocked his head, checking if his argumentation was accepted. “If he hadn’t had an accident, he would have died of something else. Pneumonia, for example. Little wounds that start to fester and rot. A stroke. A heart attack.”

Izzy watched the vampire with interest, not looking at him directly, but more checking him out for whatever was visible behind the table. 

“Your aura doesn’t look congealed,” he said. “Why not? Isn’t your body just a vessel for a demon, too?”

Claudius chuckled. “Interesting, isn’t it? I told you, there’s a third way. But as it does not pertain to your problem…”

Izzy nodded, accepting the refusal to enlighten him about the process of creating a vampire. 

“So, the point is, you do this deliberately? While the person is still alive?”

“Yes. After death, it’s too late.”

“How much time in advance?”

Claudius shrugged. “Anything from a few seconds to a few weeks. Depends. Sometimes a sealed aura starts rotting right away and the prey is dead within a few days. Sometimes it resists for a while. Young people usually survive longer than old. Healthy ones longer than those who are already sick.”

“It could be done at the last minute? The person already dying and you … do what exactly?” 

Izzy stood up and fetched himself a cup of tea while Claudius was once again sorting out his reply. Duff was surprised at how much effort he applied. He had expected a few perfunctory answers, empty phrases that wouldn’t help them at all. Not this elaborate lesson on necromancy. 

And just as Izzy, Claudius was forgetting who he was talking to. His body language relaxed, his expression lost its guard. Izzy enjoyed learning and Claudius enjoyed teaching. A match made in heaven. And here they had been worried the bite would be too tempting for Izzy to resist. It would be the least of their issues. 

“Once again, the big question is who is performing the ritual. Do you know how to seal an aura?”

Izzy returned to the table and took a sip before he stared into his cup. Maybe he expected clotted energy to start collecting at the bottom. 

“In theory … yes.”

“Then you know what it takes.”

Izzy nodded solemnly. “We’re talking wizard level at a minimum.”

“Yes. And not every wizard. You need superior skills.” Claudius watched curiously, as if he tried to assess from Izzy’s reaction if he possessed the required skill or really just knew how to do it ‘in theory’. 

Izzy didn’t give anything away. “I’m reasonably sure that such a person is not available,” he said. “What other options do we have?”

Claudius tilted his head back again, folding his hands over his belly, drumming his thumbs against his body. 

“The most likely scenario, from what you relayed to my messenger and also are saying now…” he hesitated. “I’d say it is happening with the help of a talisman.” His look shifted to Axl. “I heard this is more your area of expertise, Miss Rose.”

Axl nodded. 

He whispered something to the vampire woman, and she left the room. Duff couldn’t help but be worried again, but he was the only one. The others were engrossed in necromancy. There was no better word for it.

“The whole ritual,” Claudius started. “Can be encased into a magical artefact.”

“Any artefact?” Axl asked. 

“No.” His attention shifted fully from Izzy to Axl. “These artefacts are infused with magic upon creation.”

Axl nodded as if he knew what he was talking about. He probably was. 

Duff scribbled ‘magic infusion’ under ‘talisman’. This was a mess. Nobody would be able to make any sense out of his notes. 

“You can only do it at certain places, too, right?” Axl asked. “You need crossing leys, a willing elementary spirit and, if I remember correctly, and which is why I never bothered to learn more about the process, volcanic energy.”

“Excellent!” Claudius looked as if he would have liked to applaud, but knew that Axl wouldn’t take it kindly if he did. 

Leys, volcano. How the hell did one write ‘elementiry’? Duff folded the page back and started a new one. 

Axl was now getting a bit too interested, too. Duff eyed Slash out of the wink of his eye, who seemed about as unimpressed of this whole show of knowledge as he felt. 

‘Wizards,’ he seemed to say and faked a yawn. 

“This reduces the production places to a handful worldwide,” Axl said. “I know there were two in Italy. Both were shut down centuries ago. There are a few more around the Pacific Ring of Fire. No idea how much is still produced there.”

“Not much,” Claudius replied. “It’s a pity, but colonization has destroyed most of these manufactories. Those who are still active do their best to keep the knowledge to themselves. So, it’s not as if you can just order a talisman.”

“All right,” Izzy said. “Let’s assume we get one before we find out how to make one from scratch. How does this thing work?”

“You can enclose complex rituals into them,” Axl said. “Stuff that would take us hours or even days to complete. You charge the thing up encase what you want it to do, and the moment somebody touches the talisman, the complete procedure unfolds. Bam.”

“Exactly,” Claudius said. 

“And the demon?” Izzy asked. “You need to open a gate to another dimension at the same time as the victim touches the talisman. How, if we don’t have a wizard available who can do that?”

“It is possible to perform this act together with the ritual and enclose everything together into the talisman.”

“You mean…,” Izzy’s tongue flicked over his lower lip. “There might be some object that contains a demon in addition to the complete process of preparing a living person as host and claiming it upon death?”

“Yes.”

“Does that object have to stay near to that person? Or can they, for example, touch it today, go home and die there?”

“Should be possible,” Claudius said. “Once the body is primed for the demon, the demon will find it.”

“Awesome,” Izzy slumped back into his chair. “And we have three of those. Yet.”

“These artefacts are incredibly difficult to come by,” Axl said. “I’d even say, impossible. Having one in Whittlingsfield is a lot. Three are out of the question.”

Claudius waved his hand “You can include a large number of demons into the same object and have it release them one after the other.”

“All right.” Izzy rubbed both hands over his face. “How do we recognize them? I mean, I can’t walk through people’s houses and touch random objects.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that way of investigation,” Claudius said. “This type of magic is very powerful and while it is surely not up to me to question your abilities, …” He pulled a face a shook his head. 

“Awesome,” Izzy said. “So, how do we find this blasted artefact? Although…” he sighed. “I assume that’s a question we have to answer ourselves, so … “ He briefly closed his eyes. “I would herewith consider your end of the bargain as fulfilled.”

“It’s a pleasure to do business with you, Mr Stradlin,” Claudius said. “However. I have one more item to add to the pile. At no cost to you, of course.”

The woman had returned but waited close to the door. Now she handed a book to him, which Claudius passed forward to … no, not Izzy. Axl. He opened it and Duff noticed that each page was covered in drawings of different types of objects. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Axl asked and quickly leafed through the pages. 

“I assume so,” Claudius replied. “A complete compendium of all known magically produced talismans. If the location is known, it is mentioned, but as it is over fifty years old, that should be considered with an ounce of caution.”

“We can keep this?” Axl asked, and now Duff saw a gleam in his eyes, too. 

Was he the only one keeping his wits together? First Izzy, now Axl? He looked at Slash again, who met his eyes and rolled his own. As far as cats were able to do that. 

‘Wizards,’ Duff was sure he was saying again. 

Claudius inclined his head in a generous gesture. “It would be asked a bit much to commit everything to memory right here, wouldn’t it?”

“Thanks,” Axl said, but at least he closed the book. Duff had been afraid he might take it to one of the couches and start reading. No, he had been too optimistic. The book was open again and Axl engrossed in whatever it had to say. 

“So.” Claudius clapped his hands together. “If everything has been solved to everybody’s satisfaction…”

And with that, all the tension was back. Duff stiffened, Axl’s slammed the book shut and Izzy – Izzy sat quietly in his chair, outwardly relaxed but breathing far too regularly for it to be anything other than an attempt to calm his nerves. 

Claudius nodded at his entourage and without a word … had they talked at all? Duff wondered. He couldn’t remember a single comment from any of them … they left the room. Then he looked expectantly at Izzy, clearly waiting for him to do the same. 

Izzy remained motionless. 

“You … want your friends to stay?” Claudius asked and for the first time, Duff thought he might lose his footing. Had he expected that they would hand him Izzy with a bow around his neck and retreat? 

Izzy slowly lifted his head. There was this wrinkle between his eyes, the one that appeared so often lately, it was by now almost part of his features. “Why not? As far as I am informed, the requested service will allow me to keep my clothes on.”

With a non-committal noise, Claudius tilted his head a fraction to the side. Then he smiled. 

“I assume this is your first time then?”

“Yes,” Izzy replied. “And the last.”

He was keeping his hands very still, trying to not give his nervousness away, but if he felt anything like Duff did now, his heart was going into overdrive. A vampire would know as soon as he touched whatever vein he decided to open. 

Claudius’ smile broadened a little. “In that case …I promise, I will be gentle.” He stood up, pushing his chair back with more force than was necessary. “Shall we then?” 

He held out a hand, palm up, into the direction of one of the couches. 

Slowly, Izzy rose, too, perched on the corner of the table and offered his wrist. His chest heaved a little more than usual and once again he forced himself to relax his shoulders. His pupils were blown wide, and he wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“You … want to do this standing up?” Now Claudius' eyes widened a fraction, his mouth even stood open for a second. 

Izzy tilted his head. “I start to think we’re not on the same page regarding the service I am required to provide. Are you sure your messenger relayed the correct information? Is there a reason why you want me alone and horizontal? Do I have to worry about my virtue?”

Claudius closed his mouth and shook his head a little. Then he sighed as if dealing with an exceptionally headstrong child. “If you insist.”

Politely, as if asking him to dance, he took Izzy’s hand, slowly opened the button at the cuff, and pushed the sleeve up to his elbow. 

“I admit, I had hoped for a more … intimate location than the wrist,” he said while he massaged the biting area with his thumb. “But it will do, of course.”

Izzy stood still as a statue, not enough sass left to roll his eyes at the quip. The reality had finally caught up and wiped all foolhardiness out of him.

“They pain shouldn’t last long,” Claudius said, but again, Izzy didn’t react. 

Duff’s heart beat faster, as the vampire lowered his head while at the same time lifting Izzy’s hand towards his mouth. Izzy's breath hitched, his lids fluttered for a moment as teeth sank into his flesh, and then, it was already over. Claudius stopped and looked up. Had he tasted the alcohol? Was he angry? Would he consider this a breach of the agreement? 

Claudius stared at Izzy in wonder and … amazement. His fangs gleamed as he licked a single, ruby-red drop off his upper lip. Izzy stared back, shock on his face as if he realized that he had made a colossal mistake. 

The vampire responded with a soft smile, gentle almost, but his eyes were sparkling with excitement he was unable to hide. Whatever he was tasting, it had to be beyond his expectations. He returned to feeding and from there on, there wasn’t much to see. Claudius was bowed over Izzy’s arm as if he was frozen in some weird kind of low bow. Duff looked at Axl who was watching the scene in silent revulsion. Then he kept his attention on Izzy who, although he could only see him in profile, most of his face obscured by forward falling hair, seemed a little pale. 

Just when he wanted to ask Axl if this was normal, Izzy swayed. His head drooped, his shoulders slumped. For a moment, the table supported him, and then his knees buckled, and he collapsed. 

Duff had encountered quite a few vampires by now, but this was the first time he realized how fast they could actually move. He was still worrying that Izzy might crack his head on the table corner when Claudius had already caught him and lifted him into his arms with all the ease of a man carrying a bundle of straw. 

“I asked him to lie down for a reason,” he said into Duff’s direction, and only now did Duff realise that he was frozen mid-air standing up. “The first time can be hard on the system. I assure you I have not, nor do I intend to take more than was agreed on. In fact, we are not even near that amount.” 

Only now did he notice that Axl’s hand was wrapped around his lower arm and made tucking movements that indicated he should sit again. He looked down and they locked eyes for a moment. Axl’s mouth was pressed into a thin line and the furrows on his forehead were back. Still, the tucking continued and Duff obeyed. 

Content that nobody would attack him, Claudius turned his back on them and carried Izzy over to where he had wanted him, to begin with – the couch. He laid him down almost tenderly, and Duff couldn’t say if it reminded him of a father tucking in his overtired child or a husband laying down his new bride. Neither could he say which version made him angrier. 

The care with which the vampire arranged Izzy comfortably, put a goddamn pillow under his head, almost made it worse. Izzy wouldn’t want Claudius’ concern, he was no virgin trembling under his first lover, he wanted to deliver what he had promised to deliver and put an end to it. 

When Claudius took another moment to brush hair away from Izzy’s closed eyes, he felt Axl tug harder at his arm and realized that his ass was already leaving his seat again. He slumped back and stared elsewhere to calm down. 

But inevitably his eyes returned to the scene in front of them, just in time to see the vampire sink his fangs into Izzy’s wrist. Uneasily, Duff watched Izzy’s chest, the constant rise and fall a lot more reassuring than his still face, until, all of a sudden, the breathing intensity sped up. 

Izzy moved, first his head turned, then his free hand slipped over his belly. His eyes opened to stare sightlessly at the ceiling. Claudius interrupted his feeding, watched Izzy’s face for a second, but didn’t seem to see anything of concern before he returned to his meal. 

Duff, on the other hand, was sure his heart was beating loud enough to attract a complete horde of hungry vampires. Izzy uttered a distressed little gasp, a sound so helpless he was about to jump up for the third time and was once again only stopped by Axl’s insistent pull. 

Izzy’s breath was coming faster. His eyes were wide open, his lips parted and the gasps, while still soft, became more frequent. And more familiar. He was, Duff realized with a shock, aroused. 

Sure, if they all had been a little more realistic about the process, they could have expected something like this to happen. There had to be a reason why feeding was addictive, and he should probably be relieved that Claudius wasn’t one of those vampires who got off on fear. At least now it made sense that he was so surprised when Izzy had insisted on witnesses. 

Duff wondered if he should be jealous, but he really wasn’t. Just angry about what was happening because not for one second did he believe that Claudius had no control over how he was affecting his prey. His worry, at least, receded. If Izzy still had enough blood left in his body to produce a decent hard-on – which he was doing – he was not close to bleeding out, yet. Claudius was not out to kill or hurt Izzy. He was turning this into a pleasurable experience to give him an incentive for a repeat. 

He squinted into Axl’s direction. Axl had noticed, too. He was covering his eyes with one hand. Now he removed it and exhaled audibly. With a tiny shake of his head, he gave Duff an exasperated look that Duff couldn’t help but return. Slash, on the other hand, seemed to watch with a lot more interest than was warranted from a cat. 

But of course, just when he was convinced that nothing worse would happen than Izzy coming in his pants, the situation changed again. Izzy’s gasps turned from aroused to panicked, the sounds closer to those he uttered during his nightmares. A shudder ran through his body, his eyes, wide open, stared at the ceiling. 

‘Enough!’ Duff decided. He didn’t care what Izzy had agreed to. He didn’t care if Claudius had drunk exactly one pint or nineteen and a half ounces, this was ending now. He stood up and tried to shake off Axl’s hand when Claudius stopped. 

Izzy quieted. His body relaxed. His eyes closed, his head fell to the side and his breathing evened out. The vampire checked his wrist, licked once more over the punctures, and laid his limp hand gently onto his chest. One corner of his mouth twitched as he watched the still face for a moment, wiped Izzy’s sweaty hair back once more, and stood up. 

Unsure if it was acceptable to rush over and make sure that Izzy was well, Duff stood still. Next to  
him, Axl rose, too. 

“He will sleep for about twelve hours,” Claudius said. “As I said, the first time can be hard on the system. Apart from that, there is no need to worry.”

Duff decided that, acceptable or not, he had to check for himself if there was a need to worry. Trying not to run he walked over and sat down where a minute ago Claudius had been sitting. The bite wasn’t bleeding anymore, the breathing was normal and when he checked the heartbeat, it was slow but steady. In fact, Izzy looked similar to that one day they had found him in the opium den. Completely knocked out. And here he had eaten extra because he had feared he might get faint for a moment. None of them had had the slightest idea what he had agreed to.

The pattering of rain on glass was the only sound in the sudden silence.

When he looked up, he noticed Claudius' eyes on him. The vampire knew what Izzy meant to him. He had sent Jacob. And now he had taken his lover, brought him close to orgasm, right before his eyes, had worn him out, and handed him back. He was checking for a reaction, which Duff refused to give. Instead, he forced his anger down. 

“When he awakes,” Claudius said, “tell him that the secret about his heritage is safe with me. It was, I have to admit, a surprise. A pleasant one, yes, but a surprise.”

Duff stared back. “Why should we believe you?” he asked. “We both know that it’s perfect blackmail material.”

Claudius inclined his head in agreement. “It is. But believe me or not, I mean no harm to our wizard.”

Not ‘our’, Duff wanted to say. ‘Definitely not yours.’

“And I have no issue with the Fae. In fact, I remember the times when the gates were still open and they appeared quite frequently in our world.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Duff said. 

“No. You can’t know that because you’re not one of us.”

It was a stab right into his heart, but he swallowed it. They were almost out of here, no need to blow everything up at the last minute.

“You expected me to break the armistice any moment, the whole night long, didn’t you? Let me tell you something, Mr McKagan.” Claudius’ eyes narrowed, not enough to be considered threatening, but for the first time, he didn’t eye him as if he was talking to a child. “This is not how we do business. Yes, I gained some knowledge I was not supposed to have. I promised to keep it to myself, and I will. Which means, Mr Stradlin is in my debt. For now. One day I will come and ask him to pay. And when he does, the debt is settled. You may wonder if you should believe this, and you likely won’t. You think I will use it against him again and again for as long as I can, don’t you?”

It was exactly what Duff was thinking. It was common sense, after all. But it was also common sense to not agree to a meeting like this or to not believe that an evil vampire would stick to the blasted treaty, and yet Izzy, who was not exactly known for being gullible, trusted that Claudius would keep up his end. And Axl agreed. 

“One day you will understand that this is how we settle our issues.” One hand on his heart, he offered an old-fashioned bow, one that reeked of both, mocking and respect. “Good evening, Mr McKagan. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we meet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are. End of the meeting. Phew. Took a lot longer than I had thought.


	23. Linked

The atmosphere felt a lot less oppressive after Claudius had left the room. Duff turned to Izzy and touched his face. The skin was chilly and clammy, and so pale, it bordered on translucent. As he looked closely, he made out the fine blue network of veins in his cheeks. 

“He is so cold,” he said. 

“I know.” Axl was at his side and checked Izzy’s wrist, then he started rubbing until fresh blood appeared at the punctures. “Keep this up,” he ordered. “Make sure the wound doesn’t close.”

Duff obeyed, wiping blood away with his sleeve when it got too much. 

“All right.” Axl pulled a little box out of the satchel, about as long as a hand. 

When he opened it and there, embedded into purple velvet, Duff spotted the gleam of something that might have been nicked out of Dr Rowland’s torture cabinet. Long, bowed metal rods rested between a glass cylinder filled with a yellow fluid. 

“If we get this into him early enough, it might keep an addiction from forming. I had success with this once or twice. Sadly, not always, but it’s all we’ve got. Hold his wrist for me. Tight. Unconscious or not, this is going to hurt and he might flinch.” 

Axl took one of the rods out and inserted it about three inches deep into one of the bitemarks. Duff felt suddenly faint himself. It got worse when Axl pulled the middle rod out, leaving only the outer shell inside the wound. 

“Hold this still,” he said. 

Duff gingerly closed thumb and index finger around the thing inside … inside! … Izzy’s arm. In the meanwhile, Axl retrieved the final part out of the box. The glass cylinder. Careful to not jostle the rod, he screwed the two pieces together and then turned some kind of screw at the end of the cylinder to release the fluid into Izzy’s vein. 

“All right!” Axl pressed his finger onto the puncture and pulled the rod out. “Here, press. Make sure this shit doesn’t leak.”

This was easier said than done, because by now the hole was pretty big. Axl solved the issue wrapping the wrist up. 

“Should be closed in a minute or two,” he said. “Go and get the cart ready. Try to get some kind of tarpaulin from somebody, we can’t have him lie around in the rain for the whole trip or he’ll die from a not vampire-related ailment.”

That made sense to Duff, and happy to finally have something to do, he ran off to find the stable. When he stepped out into the yard, the rain hit him brutally. Tiny drops, hard and icy, hurt like gravel as they pelted face. The storm tore at his hair, and he wished he had fetched his coat or at least his hat first. But he was successful and twenty minutes later, Izzy lay in the back of the cart, bundled up in a stolen blanket and sheltered from the worst of the elements by a tarpaulin they had hooked to the sides.

Slash, of course, had retreated under the cover, and lay rolled up on Izzy’s stomach, while Duff joined Axl on the box. He wrapped a felted horse blanket around both their shoulders and held the ends together, while Axl took the reins. 

Mabel wasn’t happy to be separated from the dry stable, and Duff felt for her. They had briefly considered staying until morning – it was only a few hours - but none of them was keen on spending a single minute longer than was absolutely necessary. 

“What a disaster,” Axl said after a while. The brim of his hat kept bumping against Duff’s, but they stayed as close together as was possible, neither of them willing to let go of the extra warmth the nearness provided. “I know I promised I wouldn’t tell Izzy ‘I told you so’, but as he’s still unconscious…” He turned his head back and yelled “I told you so!” over his shoulders. 

Duff grinned. At the moment, he was just happy that they were all still alive and halfway confident that Izzy would wake up and be all right. 

“You know, there is something that has been bothering me.” And he needed to get it out before he had time to convince himself that it was all nonsense. “Who in Foxhill calls you Miss Rose?” 

“Constable Carter,” Axl growled. 

“In Foxhill, Axl.” He nudged him with his elbow into the side. 

“Nobody, why?”

“Are you sure?” Maybe it was another way for Claudius’s to be obnoxious, but it was weird. 

Axl thought for a moment. “Old Mr Harris. He only remembers the time when I was all female, and everybody called me Miss Rose.”

As old Mr Harris asked Duff each time they met, if he was Jimmy Turnbull, returning from his latest transatlantic journey, he was not the likeliest informant. 

“And Benedict Graves. Only to spite me, of course.”

“Benedict Graves?” Duff asked. “Of the council?”

“Head of, to be precise.” 

A nasty gust of wind blew rain into their faces and Duff pulled the blanket tighter around them. Axl didn’t complain. They had never been this close to each other, he realized, which was weird when he considered that he had once helped him to lace his corset. Even as a man, Axl wasn’t overly tall, but female, he felt small for somebody who was usually larger than life. 

“Why does he want to spite you?” Duff asked. Form what he knew, Axl was well liked in Foxhill. “And why by calling you Miss Rose?”

Axl sighed. “Because of the ‘Miss’. To rub it in that I’m past thirty and still unmarried.”

“Does it bother you?” He had never noticed any hard feelings regarding Axl’s marital status. 

“No!” Axl laughed. “But he doesn’t get that.”

Duff waited. That couldn’t be all. Finally, Axl sighed. 

“I was nineteen. Izzy had just run off to fairy land and I was … it hit me hard. Of course, everybody thought they knew exactly why. A few months later, when it was clear that there wasn’t a bastard on the way, Benedict Graves, whose wife had died about a year earlier, proposed.”

“But he must have been…,” Duff sputtered. He didn’t know Benedict Graves, but if he was head of the council…

“A lot older, yes.” Axl tensed next to him. “I declined. Halfway polite, I think, although that might be debatable. He, of course, turned nasty. I did my best to forget it, but there were a few colourful metaphors. ‘Nobody likes to drink spoiled milk’ was one of them. Or that I wouldn’t be pretty for much longer, and that soon to everybody I would just be a piece of candy, a beggar like Izzy Stradlin had spit out after the taste had gone stale. That he would tell Miss Agatha what a huge mistake she had made in taking up such an ungrateful brat, and that I soon would be back on the streets where I had come from.”

“Oh,” Duff said. Yes, that spoke of hard feelings.

“I might have asked him, if he didn’t think he was reaching a bit high. Because no woman who had enjoyed the pleasure of Izzy’s superior services would ever settle for somebody like him.”

Duff snickered, but became serious very fast. “It’s true, you know.” His face grew hot after he had said it, and he held it into the rain to cool off. At least it was too dark for anybody to notice.

“Yes, I do,” Axl replied, and chuckled under his breath. 

Duff watched him curiously. According to Izzy, there had never been anything romantic between them. Axl noticed. 

“Don’t worry, Duff,” he said mildly, and transferred the reins into one hand to pet his knee. “I know it seems as if half of Foxchill’s population is after Izzy, but I’m not one of them. He will always be my best friend, but apart from that, he’s all yours.”

“Is Benedict Graves related to Lucas Graves?” Duff asked, deciding it was urgent time to change the topic. 

“His father, why?”

“Because …,” Duff chewed his lip. Was this too far-fetched?

“Claudius kept calling you Miss Rose,” he said. 

“I noticed,” Axl muttered. 

“But I don’t think he did it to antagonize you. That wouldn’t fit in with everything that went down later.”

“Who says vampires have to be consistent, huh?” Axl shifted under the blanket, trying to get more warmth. He didn’t complain when Duff wrapped an arm around him.

“Claudius was very consistent,” he said. “Everything was orchestrated to the last word. If he called you Miss Rose, he either wanted to make you angry or it was a mistake. I don’t think he wanted to make you angry. Intimidate you, yes. Angry, no.” 

“Go on,” Axl said. 

“He got information about us from … somebody, right? Somebody who is well-informed. Not only about you and Izzy and Slash, but also about me. And … I mean after Bessie … “ He sighed. He didn’t want to be unfair, but if he was honest, it was no longer about being unfair. This was about survival. “The person in the centre of the gossip about me and Izzy is Sally. Sally’s best friend is Ella Graves. And if you remember, Ella told her, inviting me to Equinox might create trouble between me and Izzy. Ella knows.”

“I start to understand where you are heading,” Axl said slowly. 

“Ella and Lucas are like this cute, totally in love couple. She will have told him. Not to be mean. She’s this really sweet girl. But she won’t have thought much about telling her husband.”

He felt Axl shift next to him as he nodded solemnly. 

“And she is pregnant. How many grandchildren are there already?”

“This would be the first.” Axl’s voice went darker than Duff had ever heard it outside his male days. “Lucas is an only child and Mrs Graves was quite old when he was born. The family has a huge fertility problem.”

“Ella has been the aim of the vampire attack,” Duff went on. “I mean, why this show of stabbing Lydia? What did she even do wrong? Claudius has been needling Izzy with constant trespassing for months now. Lydia did what she was supposed to do. Only she picked the wrong victim.”

“You mean, Benedict Graves got a bit upset that here he was providing information, but still almost lost his precious first grandchild in a vampire raid?”

“Yes,” Duff said. “I know it’s far-fetched. It’s this ‘Miss Rose’ thing. Everything else was perfect. I mean, everything. I started to think he knows more about me than I do myself.”

“So, what about Lydia? He could just have killed her and sent the ashes to Graves.” Axl snickered at the unintended pun. 

“If Claudius can catch two birds with one stone, he will do it. The complaint will have reached him after Izzy’s invitation. Having Izzy kill like that, because he graciously allows him to, that would have been one huge stroke for his ego. And if he refused, he could still use her to prove a point. That, if he doesn’t care about disposing off his own people, he will hardly give a damn about us. Claudius expects that Izzy will report back to the council. Graves will get the information and be happy.”

“There is no way we can prove that,” Axl said, but he didn’t brush it off as nonsense either. 

“No,” Duff said. “But maybe Izzy should be even more careful around the council than he already is.”

They reached Foxhill after sunrise. The streets were busy and people stared when Duff and Axl, wet as if they had been pulled out of the bay, dragged Izzy’s wrapped up body off the cart. Nobody asked any questions, though. Axl paid one of the neighbourhood kids to return Mabel to her owner and then locked the shop door into the face of curious bystanders. 

Unwrapped and laid out on his bed, Izzy still felt cold. Duff went into the kitchen where Kate was pottering around and put a few bricks onto the hearth. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “It’s Sunday. And Easter.” 

The Foxhill community observed a different set of holidays, but Kate’s family was non-magical, and she tended to sway between both worlds. 

“I thought you would be hungry when you return,” she said. “And too tired to cook. And I thought, only cold leftovers might be disappointing.”

“You’re a star you know that?” Duff said and hugged her. 

She pulled a face and pushed him away. “I do. But you’re wet. Go up. I’ll bring them when they’re warm. Anything you’d like for lunch? You look hungry.”

He was, but they needed to get Izzy sorted out first. 

“Something hot would really be nice,” he said when a shiver ran through his body. He needed to get out of his wet clothes. 

“Kate asks what you’d like for lunch,” he said when he returned upstairs, but was taken aback when he saw Axl stare down at Izzy. 

“Something wrong with him?” he asked nervously. 

“You could say that. What the hell is this?”

Quickly, trying to not get into panic before he knew what the problem was, he joined Axl at Izzy’s bed. Axl had started to undress him and now his hand hovered over the scar on his belly. 

“Oh,” Duff said. “That.”

Axl gave him a hard look. 

“You knew? For how long? This scar is old, means he’s glamoured it for years. Why? Izzy is not exactly known for his vanity.”

“He showed it to me a few weeks ago,” Duff said. “But he should tell you himself, if he wants to.”

Axl harrumphed, but relented. Izzy would likely get an earful, though. Whenever they were alone. Sometimes he really wanted to know what they were talking about when nobody was around. 

“Let’s get the idiot comfortable. I need to get the shop sorted for Monday.”

“You want to do that now?” Duff asked surprised. He had hoped they would all drop dead and sleep for a week. 

“I make my living that way,” Axl replied. “All our living, if you think about it. I already lost all of Saturday and we didn’t exactly close in an orderly way on Friday. Everything’s in disarray. Plus, latest in an hour half of Foxhill will know that we dragged Izzy home like that and they’ll line up in front of the door before we have opened. There won’t be time for anything tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll help you,” Duff said. 

“You can just …,” Axl pointed at the bed. 

“It’ll be a lot faster if I help you. Slash can keep an eye on Izzy,” Duff replied. “I don’t think he’ll mind to have his nap here. And then you can catch up on sleep, too.”

“He won’t.” Axl ran a hand over Izzy’s scarred belly and sighed. “Thanks Duff. And, no matter what Bessie Harris or the council or Claudius said, you are one of us. More than any of those backstabbing bitches will ever be.”

They mainly had to clean up a bit, fill the shelves, make sure everything was back where it was supposed to be. Duff was just restocking candles, when somebody knocked at the door. 

“We’re closed!” Axl yelled, but when Duff looked through the glass of the door, he noticed Constable Carter. 

“That man really knows how to time his visits,” he muttered while unlocking. 

“The wizard is indisposed,” Axl said before Constable Carter had time to state his request. 

“This is important,” the policeman said. Then he remembered his manners, pulled his hat and offered his usual polite bow. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Miss Rose, on Easter Sunday of all days, but …” He broke off, sounding alarmed. “Forgive me my impertinence,” he said. “But you look like you should lie down, too. Especially in your …,” he broke off again, his eyes flickering into Duff’s direction. 

It was insulting, Duff thought. Sure, Axl looked a little worse to wear, but neither of them had slept for more than twenty-four hours. And they had sweated through a complete night of vampire meeting before riding home in the worst weather possible. Of course, Constable Carter didn’t know this, but he might employ a bit of imagination and come to the conclusion that they were just exhausted.

“I’ll take care of it,” Duff said, hoping he didn’t sound as tired as he felt. “Constable? If you may follow me?”

He took him to the library, but instead of going through their usual routine of fetching tea and ‘the wizard’, Duff sat down in Izzy’s armchair. “How can I help you?” he asked. 

“I really need to talk to Mr Stradlin,” Constable Carter ran a hand through his thinning hair until it stood up almost as wildly as Izzy’s sometimes did. He was more distraught than he liked to let on. 

“I’m his assistant,” Duff replied. “Give it a try.”

The constable didn’t look fully convinced. “Mr Stradlin is not available?”

“No.” Duff bit his tongue to not offer any explanations or hand out excuses, just like Izzy wouldn’t have done. The wizard was unavailable. Period. 

“All right then.” Constable Carter moved his head to the side for a moment before he started talking. “Elaine Royes, the cute little girl we met at the Brooks’ house, went into the kitchen tonight, fetched a carving knife and carved up her parents, her elder brother and the dairy maid.”

“Are they badly hurt?” Duff asked. 

“I’d say so.” Constable Carter leant back. “They’re dead. Can I now please talk to the wizard? I don’t care how hungover he is.”

Duff bristled, but was proud to say that all he let on was a dark glare. He took another leaf out of Izzy’s book, relaxed his shoulders and laid his hands onto his thighs. 

“It is not Mr Stradlin’s fault that nobody took his warning seriously,” he said.

“No, but …”

“He said it was likely demonic possession, but all you or superiors or whoever is responsible made out of it was … nothing, if I remember correctly.”

“Yes, but…”

“Still, Mr Stradlin went beyond what you could expect … for free, I might add … and took considerable risks to provide additional information. We came back mere hours ago.”

“You have news?”

“Obtaining information in this line of business does not consist of knocking down doors and harassing people,” Duff continued. All right, sometimes it consisted of just that, but not this time. “It consists of actions that can be harmful. And dangerous. And he still did it. And now he is …,” he took a deep breath and forced tears back, “… not well and needs time to recover. So, no, he is not available.”

Constable Carter looked contrite. “Mr Stradlin got hurt?”

“Yes,” Duff said. As good as, at least. “I can still tell you what we have learned.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. He will make a full recovery, I hope?”

‘How should I know?’ Duff wanted to yell, but he kept his voice calm. “We hope so, too.”

Then he related what they had learned about the talisman. He did not mention the book though, sure Axl would not be happy if the police confiscated it. 

“I … thank you,” Constable Carter said when he was done. He had listened without interrupting him once and now he slumped a little in his armchair. “I apologize for my behaviour. It was uncalled for. I’m grateful for all the troubles you take to help us.”

“I suppose you should lock the others up,” Duff said. “And Elaine, too.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.” He stood up. “Unfortunately, it’s not up to me.”

He stretched out his hand and Duff realized that it was the first time they shook hands. 

“Thank you,” Constable Carter said. “And, I wish Mr Stradlin a quick recovery.” He looked a little embarrassed. “Please convey my best wishes to him.”

Duff nodded. Izzy wouldn’t care one way or another what Constable Carter thought about him, he would just be happy that he had been spared the meeting. 

The shop was empty, when he showed the policeman out, and he locked the door behind him. Voices upstairs startled him, and when he went to check, Izzy sat upright, propped up by a million pillows and leaning against the headboard. Axl and Slash, in human form, were both grinning like idiots. 

“You’re awake,” Duff said excitedly and had to restrain himself from jumping onto the bed. 

“I wouldn’t call it awake,” Izzy mumbled. He was still pale and his eyelids were droopier than they normally were, but he was talking, made stupid jokes, and seemed more or less lucid. 

“Drink this,” Axl said and handed him a glass. 

Izzy’s expression turned mutinous. “This is the third potion in as many minutes,” he said. 

“I’ll pour any anti-vampire potion I can come up with down your throat, so, this goes down now and, in an hour, I’ll have something else for you.”

Izzy took the glass, sloshed the fluid around a few times and wrinkled his nose. But then he drank. 

“Nothing of this really works,” he said between sips. “It’s all experimental. What if it kills me?”

“I don’t care.” Axl raised his chin. “Down.”

Duff grinned until his face hurt. If they were able to bicker, Izzy couldn’t be too bad off. 

“Now, what do you remember?” Axl asked. 

“Duff is the one who took notes.” Izzy handed Axl the glass, and he put it onto the nightstand. 

Oh, yes. The notes. Which were at best useful to light a fire in the kitchen. 

“Not about that! The bite! If I want to come up with better antidotes, I need information.”

Izzy slumped back. “We can’t possibly skip that, can we?”

Axl didn’t deign to shake his head. 

Izzy sighed. He rubbed a hand over his neck, and chewed his lip. 

“Apart from making a total ass out of myself? Not much. How long did it go on after I … you know?” He made a vague gesture with his hand. 

“Fainted like a blushing maiden into her lover’s embrace?” Axl asked. 

“Yeah, rub it in,” Izzy muttered. “I deserve it.”

“About half an hour. He took his bloody time.”

“Hm.” Izzy pursed his mouth. “Emotions maybe. It was like being at some other place, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered.”

“What place?” Axl asked. 

“Warm.” Izzy shrugged. “Comfortable. Soft. A bit like … an opium high.”

“Any chance that he has manufactured that feeling specifically for you?” Duff asked. 

Izzy shrugged again. “No idea. But I wouldn’t rule it out. With all the information he had, he surely knows that little titbit about me. It’s practically common knowledge in Foxhill.” He rubbed a finger under his nose. “Then there was …,” suddenly he blushed. “Oh God! Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” Axl said stoically. “Doesn’t matter. You remember your … state of bliss?”

“Yes,” Izzy groaned and buried his face in his hands. When he came up, his look met Duff’s. “I’m sorry he said, eyes begging. Really, I’m…”

“It’s all right.” Duff took his hand and squeezed it. “I mean, it’s not because … it was not all right, but nothing of that is your fault. I mean, you didn’t exactly know. But, yes, I suppose your joke about your virtue … That was not so far off.”

“What about the end?” Axl asked, unwilling to allow the description of Izzy’s experiences straggle into inane banter. He was conducting a scientific study and jokes were out of place.

Izzy gave him a clueless look. 

“The end? When you were acting afraid?” 

Izzy’s expression turned more clueless. 

“Did I come?” he asked. 

“What? No!” Axl tossed up his hands. “Is that all you are worrying about?”

“No.” Izzy made a placatory gesture. “I just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe that’s the reason people come back for more feeding,” Slash said. “Because you never find release and people keep thinking, maybe this time will be different.”

Axl looked as if he wanted to strangle him. 

“Towards the end you seemed to be stuck in a nightmare,” Duff said because he didn’t want to talk about coming or not coming during feeding either. Not when it was about Izzy’s finding of release. Which he was not supposed to do with anybody but him. 

“I don’t remember that,” Izzy said. 

“Izzy,” Axl growled. “You promised…”

“I’m not lying!” Izzy snapped. “I don’t remember. I promise, if I do, you will be the first to hear about it, but all I do remember is … that.” 

Axl didn’t look fully convinced, but he didn’t push further. “You should rest, I suppose,” he said. “And eat something. And in an hour, it’s time for the next dose.”

Izzy refused to stay in bed. 

“People survive vampire bites all the time,” he said and staggered down into the kitchen for lunch, then over to the library, where he started going through the book Claudius had given him. 

“Or not!” Axl had replied and handed him the next dose. “I’ve heard some people have died from it. Or started to behave in really weird ways.”

Duff joined Izzy on the couch and cuddled up against his side, just for the reassurance of it. At least he was warm again, if still pale as a sheet. 

“Blood loss,” Axl had said. “Maybe Claudius took a bit more than he was supposed to.”

Izzy had shrugged it off. Now he turned a page, and Duff peeked over his shoulder. 

“There are so many,” he said when they looked at countless pictures of amulets, statuettes and household items. One was a carpet, another one a complete magical carriage. “How do we check for all those? I mean, can we knock at their door and say ‘please show me your sewing kit, you might have acquired a cursed thimble?’”

Izzy sighed and turned another page. “No. It’s pretty much hopeless. We’re back to the list, just in a different way. It’s not so much about a person, but more of a place where they might have all touched the same object.”

“Unless the object keeps changing location,” Duff said. “People might have passed it from one to the other. Like a gift, you know? Oh, you like this thimble so much, Elaine? Sure, you can have it for your own sewing kit.”

“Two were men,” Izzy said. “Probably no sewing kit.”

“How about a party? Where some item was at display that people were interested in?”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Izzy said.

The news that Elaine Royes had gone on a killing spree hadn’t unsettled him. 

“I told them so,” was all he had to say. “Maybe they’ll be more careful with the rest of the bunch.”

Duff’s suspicion regarding Benedict Graves, however made him frown. 

“It’s not much evidence,” he said. “Or rather, no evidence at all. Still, I’ll keep it in mind. Good thinking.” He smiled. “You start to develop the right mindset for this job.”

The praise was enough to make Duff fell all warm and fuzzy inside. 

Izzy did his best to appear completely recovered, but he did go to bed early. Duff didn’t mind. He was dead on his feet, but somehow felt reluctant to leave his ailing lover alone for longer than it took to fetch him more tea or for Izzy to carry said tea to the outhouse a few hours later. 

Duff was so tired, he was sure a talisman to raise the dead would be a minimum requirement for him to open his eyes ever again, but instead of sleeping through the night, he woke up to the sound of soft, barely audible gasps. 

“Izzy?” He pushed himself up on one elbow and tried to make out shapes in the dark. “Are you all right?”

The gasping continued, soft and pained. Nightmare, he thought and reached out to shake him awake. His hand landed on Izzy’s face instead of his shoulder. The skin was cold and clammy. 

Duff scrambled out of bed and searched for matches. He was so used to Izzy snitching lamps to life with his fingers that he hardly ever bothered to keep matches at hand. Eventually he found them and lit the oil lamp on the table. 

Izzy lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, the gasps turning into moans. 

“Izzy!” Duff shook his shoulder, then cupped his face with both hands to check his eyes. They were completely white. “Shit!” he spat and ran into the corridor. “Axl!” he yelled, and hammered at his door. 

Without waiting for a reply, he hurried back. It didn’t take more than a few seconds and Axl was there, male, but dressed in his frilly nightgown and that horrible cap he liked to wear. 

“What is this?” Duff asked, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Did Claudius call him to that demon dimension again? He’s got his blood, doesn’t he? Maybe he saved some of it.”

“He didn’t.” Axl pulled Izzy upright and Duff was quick to support him from behind. “We can touch him, so no calling anywhere.”

Axl grabbed Izzy’s chin and looked into his eyes. “And he drank it all, just as agreed. Even his sleeves were clean. Not one drop of blood. I checked, believe me.”

He moved Izzy’s head from one side to the other, then brutally slapped his cheek. No reaction.

“Then what is this?” Duff was getting frantic. 

“Trance,” Axl said. 

“What?”

“Trance. This used to happen a lot. Or so he said. I’ve been there only once or twice. It was before he learned how to control his powers. Sleep made him slip into trance. Actually, this might be a vision. But I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him have one.”

“What do we do?” Duff asked. 

“Ride it out. Nothing we can do. Keep him upright. It’s better. In case he suddenly starts puking.”

“Why now?” Duff leant against the headboard and settled Izzy in his arms. The chill of his skin creeped him out and the horrible pallor was back, too. “Is it … you know ... connected.”

Axl sighed. “I’d love to say ‘no’, but that would be one coincidence too much.” He climbed onto the bed, too, settling on Izzy’s other side. “God knows what that bastard did to him. But he did something, no matter what Izzy says. Of all the stupid ideas he’s ever had, this one ranks … under the top five, I would say.”

Duff wondered what might have been more stupid than offering himself up as vampire snack, but he was too worried for stories about Izzy’s misspent youth. He pulled the blanket tighter around him and hoped it would warm him up somehow. 

In the end, ‘riding it out’ took less than half an hour. All of a sudden, Izzy made a choking noise and started coughing. Duff bent him forward and slapped his back until he began to curse. When his fingers slipped over Izzy’s neck, the skin was warm again. 

“Back among the living?” Axl asked. 

Izzy sat up and turned watery eyes into his direction. 

“What are you doing in my bed?” he asked. 

“Not what you seem to think,” Axl replied. “Care to tell us where you were headed.”

Izzy looked confused for a moment, and then his face closed off. 

“Nowhere,” he said. “Can we all go back to sleep, please? I’ve had a hard day.”

“No,” Axl said without moving. “We had an agreement. Anything weird happening after the bite, you tell us. You were bitten, this was weird. Details.”

Izzy turned around to face him. “Axl, I swear…”

“Details, Izzy! I’m not telling you what kind of shitty idea this was and you tell me what is wrong with you.”

Izzy’s shoulders slumped. He wriggled to find room between Duff and Axl and finally they were all squished together like sardines in a tin. He still kept a stubborn silence, mouth pressed into a thin line and hands grabbing each other in his lap. 

“You can tell us, you know?” Duff said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice. Maybe one now and then had to put a gun against Izzy’s head, but in general, a bit of coaxing went a lot further. Especially when he thought he had done something wrong. “Whatever has happened, it’s not your fault. We knew there was a risk and we were all on your side.”

Izzy gave him an incredulous look. All right, they had all been strictly against it, but it didn’t change that they had promised their support. Duff reached for Izzy’s hands, pulled them apart from each other and took one of them into his own. The second one immediately started to pick at his nightshirt. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

Izzy chewed his lip. Then he huffed. 

“That bastard linked me to another dimension.”

Axl groaned and Duff, already wound tight after the last days, wanted to run around hysterically and demand an explanation about what that meant because he was as well-informed as he had been before. It had to be something bad, something really bad and he wasn’t sure he could take any more really bad news. He was so fed up with them. 

“What happens now?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from squeaking. “To you? Can he pull you over? Can he hurt you there? Are you…”?

“Calm down!” Izzy interrupted him. “Nothing like that.” 

Sullenly he retrieved his hand out of Duff’s grasp and interlocked it with the other one over his lap. 

“But what…”

“I don’t know yet. All right I do know. It’s just … it’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it for us stupid, faithful to our habitat people, oh great wanderer,” Axl said. 

Unlike Duff, he did not try to keep his emotions under control. While Duff might be close to hysteria, Axl’s voice dripped venom. Which would make Izzy stubborn. It didn’t matter that Axl’s anger was directed at Claudius and that Izzy was the recipient because Claudius was not handy. Izzy felt guilty and would see Axl’s contempt as justified. Which would make him draw back into himself and run away for a week or so. 

“Axl?” Duff said when he noticed how Izzy’s face was closing off. “Shut up.”

Now Axl gave him an incredulous look, but to Duff’s surprise, he did shut up. That must have been a first and likely an indication that hysteria was indeed the emotion most suitable for the situation. He heaved a deep breath and took Izzy’s hand again, not caring that he made tucking motions to keep it to himself. 

“Nobody is blaming you for anything,” he said. “But we need to know what this means. Just … all right, I likely can’t help you, but for my peace of mind, explain it to me. Because otherwhile I’ll have to make it all up myself and that will be worse than it is.”

Izzy’s lips twitched. 

“At the moment, it’s not that bad. It’s not a nice dimension he has linked me to. I mean, of course, it isn’t. But it can’t hurt me. Normally, when I move between dimensions, I have to … you could say I have to open a gate and as soon as I have passed it, this door shuts automatically. It’s never just open.”

“But now it is,” Duff said. 

“Yes.”

“And you can’t close it?”

“I can. But I can just as well push it back to gaping wide any moment I want to. I shouldn’t be able to. And … ehm … tonight, I kind of fell through, you could say. Or looked through. I remained on our side. Which is kind of lucky because stumbling unprepared over the threshold is no fun. I should know, it kept happening to me when I was a kid. Anyway, it came unexpectedly and that’s why I didn’t handle it well. That won’t happen again, because I’ve shut it for now.”

“All right.” Duff wondered where the catch was. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Not in itself, no.” Izzy ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. “It’s … ehm … The reason these doors are not supposed to stay open is because if they do, I can just reach over and use power from another dimension in ours. Combining powers from different worlds, and to a lesser part from different dimensions, would provide ... quite a few possibilities to me.”

Duff’s first impulse was to ask why Claudius should give him more power than he already had. It made no sense. But then he remembered something else. 

“You said doing that is not a good idea. That it creates chaos and destruction.”

“It does.” Izzy said. “It also corrupts the mind. If I use this source, it will inevitably change who I am.”

“Then don’t!” Duff exclaimed. Really it wasn’t so difficult. “Keep that door closed and don’t!”

“Yes, Duff,” Izzy said. His mouth twitched, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s what I’m doing here.”

“Then where’s the bloody problem?” Duff let go off Izzy’s hand. Instead, he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. 

“Temptation,” Axl said. “One day Izzy will get into a situation he can’t solve with the powers he has, and he will remember this … additional energy source at his disposal.”

“Right,” Izzy said. “Remember the little black book?”

“After all the drama it created?” Duff asked. “Sure. But it’s gone.”

“Yes. I didn’t want to touch it for a reason. Temptation. For a wizard, having access to certain sources of power and not using them, that’s really hard. I’ve been battling with this problem for all my life. When Claudius got a whiff of my ancestry, he will have guessed that it creates havoc with my internal power balance to only ever have access to one side of my powers. If I had ever been able to use both, I would have done it. I would still dot it. Because it would finally, finally scratch an itch I have felt all my life.”

Izzy had once explained it to them, but the concept was so difficult for him to grasp that his understanding was purely theoretical. The need Izzy had, to combine both his sides and feel complete … Duff supposed one had to know it to truly get it. 

Izzy scratched his neck. “Now the bastard has provided me with yet another energy source. One I can’t just shut off for good. The book is gone, I can’t use it, so while the itch is there, I am not able to scratch it. This however … I could just reach out and do it. Anytime I want.”

“And we all know how well Izzy deals with temptation,” Axl muttered. 

“Shut up,” Izzy said kindly. 

Axl shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Izzy agreed.

“Let’s see the positive part,” Duff said. There was no positive part, but, what the hell, he would make one up. “You’ve gotten a lot better at dealing with temptation. You were tempted to run off with the little, black book, but instead you came back and gave it to Axl. You knew your limits. And I know you’re tempted to smoke opium almost every day, but you stay away from it. You’re not as weak as everybody thinks. And definitely not as weak as you think you are.”

Izzy’s lips twitched again and this time it did reach his eyes. “It’s not like I’m going to try it for the heck of it, or because it is so much fun. I’m aware of the consequences, so …”

“Good!” Duff said. Really, where was the problem? Izzy didn’t sound as if he was salivating to use demon dimension energy. 

“Things like that happen during huge emotional turmoil,” Axl said. “And often enough with a good intention behind it, but the consequences are just as disastrous as if it’s done for fun. Like … we don’t know what the future brings, but if there is truly a vampire war looming, we might soon get into more trouble than we like. The idea might have popped up spontaneously in Claudius’ mind, when he realized that Izzy had foreign blood, but he didn’t do it to spite him. There’s a purpose behind it.”

“What does Claudius really know about Izzy?” Duff asked. “I know he said he will keep his Fae heritage to himself, but what about the world wandering?”

“No,” Izzy replied. “I don’t think so. He will know that I have likely access to my two home worlds and he does already know that I can switch between dimension because I wanted to meet him in another one, but the latter is not that uncommon. He can do it himself. The full extend? No. He is not aware. Or we wouldn’t have made it out of there. Agreement or not, that would have been too good for him to be true.”

But the question remained, why did Claudius do it? 

“How does it corrupt the mind?” Duff asked. 

Izzy shrugged. “You can never say. But I suppose, that’s the main goal behind it. Make me do things I would never do. Say good bye to what little ethics I have left. Once you are past a certain point, collaborating with a vampire doesn’t sound that outlandish anymore. You could say, I already did it. Reluctantly, yes, but I did. Take away another level of inhibition and I’ll do it again. To a higher degree. And I’ll pay not only by giving him a bit of blood, but by solving this minor, magical problem for him. And so, it goes.”

“Corruption is Claudius’ strength,” Axl said. “He’s got his fingers everywhere. You suspect he’s got a grip on our council. It’s safe to say, he has an even firmer one on the administration of Whittlingsfield. He wants Izzy. I guess we agree there. But as Izzy is now, the only chance would be to turn him.”

“And turning will destroy my powers,” Izzy added. “So, he needs to get me to a point where I will consider working with him all on my own. With all my abilities intact. And the best way for that is to make me realize that the dark side has its rewards. You could say, by opening up this power source to me, he is making me an offer. He knows I won’t take it. Not at the moment. But I can’t fully reject it either. It’s sitting on my doorstep, nicely wrapped up, waiting if maybe one day I will accept it. The man is two thousand years old. He can wait.”

“He can wait until doomsday,” Duff muttered. 

“Hopefully,” Izzy said. He wrapped an arm around Duff’s shoulder and pulled him close. “At the moment, there’s no risk. We’re all safe and sound. Nothing to tempt me into using dark power sources.”

“What about … you know … the talisman?” 

Izzy shook his head. “It worries me, sure. But not enough to do something like that. So, really, Duff. It sucks, but at the moment the temptation is at a level I can handle.”

“In that case,” Axl said with a yawn, “I’ll go back to bed. Really, one night of uninterrupted sleep might be nice.”

He toddled off in his frilly gown and with that ugly cap on his head, and Duff crawled back into Izzy’s arms. He wasn’t fully convinced, but as there was nothing he could do, he agreed with Axl. 

One night of uninterrupted sleep would really be nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Axl is using a pravatz syringe. The "needle" consisted of two parts, one to poke a hole into the vein which then had to be pulled out and left a hollow cylinder. That thing was total shit and didn't work properly. But it was better than what had been done before, which was laying open the complete vein. Duff is not likely to have seen something like that ever (it was really a new technique at that time), so freaking a bit out is justified.


	24. Transferred

There was only so much a man could take before crashing. The next morning, Duff crawled out of bed with less agility than old Mr Harris would manage on a bad day. Nobody should feel geriatric at twenty-two, he thought, when he skipped breakfast and dragged his miserable behind directly to work. 

Axl had permitted the unbelievable and they were drinking tea in the shop, just to stay awake. Slash wouldn’t show his face at all, and Izzy lounged around in the library, going with shaky fingers and sluggish movements through the talisman book. 

Duff had never been so happy when lunch break came and with it the chance to toss in an additional hour of sleep. Geriatric people needed a nap in-between. He made a quick trip to the library to check if Izzy was experiencing any unexpected bouts of temperature drop and white-eye-syndrome, and found him still wrapped into a giant blanket on the couch, busy with the book. The fire was roaring and it was stifling hot in the little room. 

“Hey,” he said and looked up for no more than a second. 

“Found anything interesting?” Duff asked, hoping for a decisive ‘no’ that wouldn’t keep him from his well-deserved old-people-nap.

Izzy blew out air. “Not sure. I might have seen this one somewhere, but I can’t say for the hell of it where that might have been.”

Duff said good-bye to napping, and went over to the couch. Izzy made enough room for him to perch on the corner, tilted the book into his direction, and pointed at one of the drawings. A little statuette in the form of a snake.

“I know that one, too,” Duff said surprised. It was oddly familiar, the way it rose up, the mouth wide open and ready to bite.

“You do?” Izzy sat up straighter. “Remember where? Because here it says, it’s in India.”

“Which means it was in India fifty years ago,” Duff said slowly while he was running through all the fancy rooms full of fancy knickknacks he had visited over the last weeks. “The surgery,” he said finally. 

“Oh my God, yes!” Izzy tossed the book away and scrambled out from under the blanket. He still wore his nightshirt and legs, long and pale and skinny, poked out like drumsticks. 

“But Dr Rowland already had all those little animals when you lived with him!” Duff said. “Or have there been necromantic activities in Pitlochry, too?”

“No,” Izzy said. He was already running out of the room and Duff was left with no choice but to follow. “Not all of them. Just a few. Some of them were new.” 

He stomped up the staircase to his room where he scrambled into his clothes. Duff had to physically interfere to make him put on a real shirt instead of just stuffing his nightshirt into his pants. 

“All right,” Izzy said as soon as his head poked out through the collar. “Equipment. Ask Axl if he still has the magically lined satchel. The one we used to get the black book. We need something to transport this monstrosity. And I’ll…,” he eyes swept over the line of weapons. “He’s human and plain non-magical, so shooting him should work.”

Duff faltered. He hadn’t thought that far. Yes, originally, they had been looking for a person, but after learning about the talisman, his mind had shifted towards an item. Izzy was right, of course, somebody had used the item and a doctor placing it where patients, people who were already sickly and might die faster than a healthy person, could touch it … He didn’t want to finish the thought, but he had to. 

“You can’t just kill him, Izzy,” he said. 

That much he had learned over the last weeks. Izzy’s mental balance was precarious, and each and every time he had to overstep, brought him deeper into trouble. Now the additional liability of a link to a demon dimension had thrown him even more off-kilter. Killing a man who might not have truly been his lover, but whom he valued and felt esteem and gratefulness for, that would push him deeply into dark territory. 

“I might have to,” Izzy replied and loaded the army revolver. His face was thunderous, but Duff saw the betrayal in his eyes. He may never have excluded Dr Rowland from the list of suspects, but he had surely hoped it would be anybody but him. 

“You said it yourself,” Duff said. “He’s non-magical. He’s a case for the police.”

Izzy’s reaction was priceless. His face almost fell apart in consternation. It obviously hadn’t crossed his mind that he could just hand the bad guy over for a change. 

“We could call Constable Carter right away,” Duff went on. 

“No,” Izzy said, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. “You heard what they did about the possessed victims. Nothing. We need to stop this right now, before anybody else might touch the blasted snake.”

“But you’ll hand him over!” Duff repeated. 

Izzy stopped. He ran his hand through his hair until it was in total disarray. Not that it had been well-groomed before. In fact, he looked pretty much like some unhinged lunatic, in wrinkled clothes, hair greasy and tousled and eyes more than a little wild. 

“Yes,” he said. “If he doesn’t give me reason to kill him, I won’t.”

Duff didn’t feel this was enough, but what should he do? Axl did have the bag and while he was fetching it, Izzy raided the shop till to have money for a cab. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Duff hissed. 

“I’ll confess tonight,” Izzy said. “But we’re not walking.”

“Then bloody ask him.”

Izzy had already shut the drawer and leant against it with an expression of fake innocent. When Axl returned, he grabbed the bag, and was off. Duff sighed. 

“We needed money for the cab.” He pointed at the drawer. “We’ll pay you back.” 

Axl rolled his eyes. “As if. Just make sure you add it to the books when you return.”

“Do you do that often?” Duff asked when he had reached Izzy who was already a hundred yards down the street. “Stealing money from Axl?”

“I have borrowed it,” he said, not stopping his hurried step. “Because this is an emergency. And, no, it doesn’t happen often. And Axl knows I’ll let him know. And pay him back.”

Duff didn’t press the issue any further. It had to be one of these bizarre behavioural patterns between Izzy and Axl. If Izzy had taken half a minute to explain the situation, Axl would give him the fare without problem, yet he preferred to nick it, then confess and be yelled at for not asking. And afterwards, both of them would be happy. He would never understand their dynamic. 

Afterwards, Izzy kept a grim silence, and Duff worried a lot less about Dr Rowland being a dangerous necromancer than he did about what this new betrayal would do to Izzy. The blow had to be brutal, but how bruised he would come out of this was hard to say. 

“You know,” Duff said when they were sitting in the cab. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“What?” Izzy snapped. He had been staring out of the window and didn’t seem inclined to talk. 

“Really, let’s think about it before we storm the surgery. You said Dr Rowland might have done it because he thought he had found a way to conquer death.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Izzy growled. “Although it might make him understand what type of shit, he has gotten himself into. And that the death of a whole family is on him.”

“But that’s what I mean,” Duff said. “Mr Gilling was sick, so I get that. But Elaine was not in the surgery because she would die, but because she had a bit of a cough. It was in the list. When it got worse, he visited her at home.”

“He might have brought the snake,” Izzy replied. 

“But how does he carry it around without getting affected himself? Claudius said you shouldn’t touch it and you’re a wizard. And the boy? He broke his back while falling off a horse. He was already dead before Dr Rowland got to him. And you heard it, they have to touch the snake before death. He was in the surgery because he had some minor infected wound.”

“Maybe Giles’ intentions weren’t as pure as I liked to think,” Izzy replied, not trying to hide his fury. His eyes were blazing and Duff was sure the wrinkles between his eyes would never smooth out again. “Maybe I just suck at interpreting people’s intentions. You’re a lot better at that, so maybe I should have listened to you, when you were having reservations about him. Instead, I went beyond myself to make you believe that Giles was one of the good guys. He might have picked them for the families they belonged to. Afterwards all he had to do was wait and the person would eventually fall sick. In fact, Elaine’s cough turning into pneumonia might have been just that. Without Giles and his tricks, she would have recovered.”

It still didn’t explain how Rowland had touched the snake as a mere non-magical human, but they would find out. Soon, because the cab had just stopped in front of the surgery. Duff braced himself. Izzy jumped out, paid the cabbie in a hurry and ran up the stairs. Duff, sure he would have to stop him from killing, hurried after him. 

A footman opened when Izzy hammered against the door as if he was trying to knock it down by sheer physical force, and then they were confronted with the upset secretary. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he stuttered as he stood with outstretched arms in the hall, “but the surgery is closed today.”

Duff hadn’t thought that far, but of course, it was Easter Monday. 

“Dr Rowland is only taking emergencies today and he is busy.”

“Do I look like I care?” Izzy asked and pulled the revolver. 

Duff groaned inwardly. 

“Izzy,” he whispered. “Remember what we discussed regarding killing people.”

The secretary made an undignified sound, but despite turning green, he held his position. 

“Your loyalty in all honour,” Izzy said, “but the bastard is not worth dying for.”

He shouldered past the poor man who, despite his determination, did not have what it took to hold Izzy back when he was in a fit of rage. Duff offered an apologetic shrug and ran after him. At least they would not have to call the police themselves, the secretary would take care of that. 

Izzy stormed the office at the front and then right through to the treatment room. Duff stayed on his heels. 

“Jeffrey … ehm … Izzy!” Dr Rowland exclaimed in surprise, but the rest was drowned out by the shrill shrieks of the elderly lady who said stripped down to a thin undershirt on the stretcher. 

Izzy faltered. Then he put the revolver back into his pocket. “We need to talk, Giles,” he said, all fury gone from his voice. “Now. Send the lady home. I mean it.”

“I … what?” Dr Rowland ushered them out of the entrance and closed the door behind him. “Have you lost your mind?” he asked, his voice hushed, but urgent. His face was deep crimson and his mouth shifted between standing open and uttering complaints. It would have been funny if the situation wasn’t so dire.

“Send the woman home, Giles,” Izzy repeated. “And I’ll explain. I can do it now, if you want, while she’s sitting in there and screaming her head off, but I’d rather not. Because your secretary will already be running for the police and in no time at all there’ll be total chaos in here. That might not be good for your reputation.”

Dr Rowland groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I should have let you bleed out in the Cairngorms he said. “Give me … ten minutes. And, please, wait outside until Mrs Henderson has dressed herself.”

Izzy nodded and, completely confused, Duff again trotted after him. They ended in the little waiting room. 

“So, he’s not our guy?” he asked because that was the only explanation, he was able to come up with. 

“His aura has lumpy areas,” Izzy said. “They weren’t there before. He’s affected himself, he’s just stronger than a little girl like Elaine or a sick man like Mr Gilling.”

“Does that mean you won’t shoot him?”

Izzy shook his head. He smiled a little, but it slipped off his face in a heartbeat. 

“Can we save him?” Duff asked. “I mean … what do we even do with the statuette?”

“No idea,” Izzy said. “I haven’t thought that far, yet. From what I know there might be dozens of people running around who are already primed for hosting a demon. They’re just not dead yet.”

It took a bit more than ten minutes, but then they were back in the office. For once, Dr Rowland did not look kindly at the man he not so long ago had proclaimed to be the love of his life.

“This is unacceptable,” he said and despite his best efforts to keep his countenance, his voice was trembling. “I did all in my power to be supportive and it might be petty to remind you that …”

“Yes, I know, I owe you,” Izzy interrupted him. He squatted down next to the desk, move all the little animals out of the way and eyed the snake. It seemed to hiss at him, mouth wide open, the teeth tiny but deathly in its upper jaw. “Your aura is clotting. Feeling a bit under the weather lately?”

“My … what?” 

“Have you been sick, Giles?”

“This morning,” the doctor admitted grudgingly. “Probably ate too much over Easter and didn’t feel well. It’s nothing serious.”

Izzy stood up. “We found out how all this …,” he made a sweeping gesture with his arms, “works. The problem at the centre is your little trinket here.” He pointed at the snake. 

“What this?” Dr Rowland reached for the statuette, but Izzy quickly slapped his hand away. “Ouch!” he made. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know if it’s getting worse if you touch it again, so don’t. How regularly did you have it in your hand?”

“I think, not that often. When Jonathan gave it to me and maybe one or twice afterwards.”

“Jonathan Brooks?” Izzy asked. 

“Yes. You promised to explain, Jeffrey … Izzy… I’ll never get used to this name. You promised, now explain.”

Izzy did, if in an abbreviated form. Halfway through, Dr Rowland sank into his chair. A green tinge spread from his nose to his cheek, and he was just about to say something, when noises reached them from the front of the house. 

“The police,” Duff said. 

“Yes, I instructed Mr Taylor to send them away when they arrive. To tell them it was a misunderstanding.”

But at that moment, somebody knocked at the door and the secretary – Mr Taylor – opened. 

“I asked to not be disturbed,” Dr Rowland said.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this young man here won’t be deterred.”

The young man was a police officer in uniform. 

“I apologize Dr Rowland,” he said, eying Izzy and Duff suspiciously. “Would you mind to come outside for a moment? It won’t take long, but there is an urgent issue I have to settle.”

Dr Rowland ran a hand through his immaculate hair until it wasn’t quite as immaculate anymore, and stood up. He surely did look as if he had just been taken hostage by armed robbers, and they young officer’s tactic was a good one. See if he could separate the victim from the kidnappers and have him follow out of the house. Therefore, it really didn’t take more than a moment and Dr Rowland was back. 

“Brooks gave you the talisman?” Izzy said. “How, when, where, why?”

Dr Rowland sat down and stammered some rather incoherent syllables before he had sorted himself enough for full sentences. 

“I was at his trading station. He was showing me around. You know he is a silk merchant?”

Izzy nodded.

“There was a shipment. Huge boxes. He opened one of them to show me the fabric and the statuette lay on top. He picked it up and laughed and said, as I had all these little animals on my desk, didn’t I want it?”

“And you took it.”

“Yes. It would have been impolite to reject. And it didn’t look overly expensive, more like a trinket.”

Izzy nodded again. “Where did you put it?”

“My pocket.”

“Did you show it anybody?”

“No. I just put it onto the desk with the others. I had no idea…”

“I know,” Izzy said. “Who touched this thing? You, Brooks, who else? Any patients? Who cleans here? Would somebody else come in?”

“Oh God!” Dr Rowland covered his face with both hands. “I don’t even know. The children like to pick the animals up. It’s part of the reason why I have them there. To distract them.”

“Start with whoever you can remember.” Izzy took a pencil off the desk and pressed it into his hand. “Write. We’ll take the talisman somewhere safe and then I need to look at anybody who might have handled it. See if they are already possessed or still among the living.”

“How do we get it into the bag without touching it?” Duff asked. 

“Gloves,” Izzy said and pulled them out. “And I’ll do it, I’ll carry the bag and you’ll stay away from it. I have no idea if these are even strong enough to fight off the power.”

He put on the gloves and Dr Rowland looked up when they shrunk around his hands. The first time it was kind of fascinating to watch, Duff had to admit. Then, with one finger Izzy shoved the snake into the bag.

“Felt anything?” Duff asked. 

“Tingling, yes.” Izzy closed the bag. “But not much and I could easily reject it. So, no worry.”

Duff wanted to remind him that he had said the same after he had woken from his feeding-induced coma, but this was not the time. 

“Write,” Izzy said again, already halfway out of the room. “I’ll pay Mr Brooks a visit, then come back here for the list.”

“Should we really take the statuette home first?” Duff asked as soon as they were on the street. “I mean, the Brooks’ house is around the corner and unless they rip the snake out of your hands…”

Izzy hesitated, but then he nodded. 

It was no more than maybe ten minutes on foot, but as soon as they reached the street, it was clear that something was wrong. It was far too lively for Easter Monday in this quiet little corner of Heatherfield. People stood outside, some openly watching whatever was going on, others carrying baskets and walking extra slowly as they pretended to just happen to be around. 

They slowed down, too and Duff stopped a young woman in a maid’s uniform. 

“What happened?” he asked, and pointed at a policeman who tried to make people move on. 

“Somebody broke into the Brooks’ house and killed the family,” she whispered. 

Duff felt sick in his stomach as he thought of Anabelle and Fluffy, hoping the little girl was all right. 

“There’s Constable Carter,” Izzy said and pointed towards the one man in street clothes in the middle of a group of uniformed policemen. “Come one.”

They were stopped by the man who was trying to keep the onlookers under control and it took Duff all his persuasive powers for the officer to inform the constable. 

“Mr Brooks?” Izzy asked, when Constable Carter waved for them to pass. 

“Good to see you back in good health, Stradlin,” he said and shook Izzy’s hand. “Mr McKagan had me worried.”

Izzy shrugged. “Magical … diseases usually leave just as fast as they hit.”

“I’m not complaining, I’ll take all the help I can get. Yes, Brooks. Killed his wife, two maids and one footman. Then the butler beat his head in with an iron poker. Slowed him down, but not by much. But I give it to the butler, he’s got grit. Eventually he broke enough bones to stop him.”

“Anabelle?” Duff asked. 

“Visited her married sister. Apparently, Mr and Mrs Brooks were not on good terms lately.”

“He did not rise from the dead, did he?” Duff asked. Was there another way the demon could take over? Before the victim was dead? 

“Apparently he did, only nobody noticed.” Constable Carter rubbed his forehead. He didn’t look as if he had gotten much sleep lately either. “As I said, the butler is a man to be reckoned with. A bit shaken, but was able to give a full statement.”

He stopped briefly when a covered stretcher was carried out, the white sheet blotchy with blood. It was loaded into a carriage and Duff swallowed down rising bile. 

“A few weeks ago, before I even got involved, he overslept. Normally, Mr Brooks seemed to be a very punctual man, up at seven every day. But that day, he did not rise before noon.”

“And nobody bothered to wake him up?” Izzy asked. 

“Seems like he’s a bit of a tyrant,” Constable Carter said. “So, around noon, the butler – did I mention that the man’s got balls – went in to wake the bad-tempered master of the house. He had to shake him to get him to wake up, and was just about to call the doctor, when Mr Brooks rose and was … a bit listless maybe, but apart from that, appeared healthy. He has not fully been himself since then. Which was the cause for trouble between him and his wife. Apparently, he showed little interest in his business from there on.” 

“But … his aura wasn’t flat before,” Duff said. This had to be a different type of problem or maybe whatever Claudius hat told them was not the issue at all. They were all trusting in information obtained from a vampire. “He was at this … this … tea invitation we attended.”

“No,” Izzy said. “No, he wasn’t there. Mrs Brooks said he was held up and would come later, but he never showed. To be honest, I didn’t care because I was more interested in Elaine. But this sounds as if he might have been the first victim. We need to find the others and fast.”

“Care to enlighten me?” Constable Carter asked, and Izzy brought him up to date. 

“I’ll take care of this,” the policeman said. “I have the manpower to get this done, you don’t.” 

He looked curiously towards the bag and Izzy opened it to let him have a look. 

“I’d rather not take it out,” he said. 

“It’s all right,” the constable bowed his head over the flap, but made no moved to reach inside. “I think I’m seeing enough to describe it. Good. I’ll pick up the list from Dr Rowland and we’ll get everybody together who might have touched the statuette. I don’t care how rich or influential they might be. Then, if you could come by and look at them to tell me who needs to be locked up and who has only a … a clotted aura, that would be helpful.”

“I’m not even sure you can lock them up,” Izzy said. “At least not for long. A normal prison cell might not hold a demon. And there might be those who are not obviously affected yet. I could check on a deeper level of course, but non magical people usually don’t react kindly to such a suggestion.”

Constable Carter shrugged. “The prison is all we have and I’ll do whatever is needed.”

Izzy didn’t look convinced. He didn’t say anything, just tipped his hat and they returned to look for a cab. 

“What do we do now?” Duff asked. “I mean, is there a way to stop all these people from turning into demons?”

Izzy sighed. “No idea. I haven’t gotten that far yet. Axl might know more. Amulets and talismans are his area of expertise. Hopefully he can come up with something.” 

When they sat in the cab, Duff suddenly felt the former weariness renew its grip on his body. Over the last hours, the rush of excitement had kept him upright, but now that it was ebbing off, he was ready to crash. Izzy looked even worse. He had leant his head against the window and closed his eyes. When they reached Stakesby Road, Duff had to wake him to get him out of the cab. 

For the next two days, Duff was superfluent. 

Izzy had made his trip to the police station and sorted victims into ‘imminent danger’ and ‘will hopefully survive for a few more days’. There were more than a dozen people affected, among them two housemaids who had cleaned the surgery and eight children under ten. 

Apart from that, he was holed up with Axl. Duff brought them food and tea, but they barely looked up, neither when he entered, nor when he left. At least he got to man the shop, which made him feel halfway useful. 

It was around lunchtime on day three, when they emerged and joined him, Slash and Kate in the kitchen. 

“Kate?” Axl said when she put the pot with soup onto the table. “You can go home for today. And tomorrow.”

Duff had never seen his hair this untidy and although he was female, he wore yesterday’s male clothes. He had likely only napped for an hour or two and not bothered to change afterwards. 

Kate’s eyes shifted worriedly from one to another. She knew what this meant, but she also knew that she was not supposed to ask questions, as Axl was adamant that she was too young to be pulled into their problems. So, she nodded and left. 

“You’ve found something?” Duff fetched two more plates and filled them with soup, but neither of them seemed to be overly interested in eating. 

“There is a way to destroy the statuette,” Axl said. “Which should reverse the damage done to at least those who are still alive and not yet fully taken over. Whoever is already hosting a demon, will drop dead the moment it leaves the body. But to be honest, they’re dead anyway.”

That sounded like good news, Duff thought, but somehow both, Izzy and Axl didn’t look as if it was. 

“What’s the problem?” he asked. 

Izzy had been crumbling bread into his soup, but had yet to pick up his spoon. He looked like warmed up leftovers himself, his skin grey, his hair an unwashed mess. Sometimes Duff felt the need to just fill a tub with water and dunk him in. 

“It takes a lot of power,” he said. “A lot more than I have. A lot more than Axl has.”

“Then who?” Slash asked. “Is there somebody who might be powerful enough?”

“Probably,” Axl replied. He had put his spoon into the soup, but all he did was stir it in circles. “Only how long would it take to find that person? And get him or her here? And do we have so much time?”

“Not likely,” Izzy said. 

“The energy from the demon dimension,” Duff said. “Izzy would have to use it. Am I right? That’s why you are all looking so glum?” 

“It would be a possibility,” Izzy said. 

Duff slammed his fist onto the table. “How many days ago since you said you wouldn’t do it? And now you have already changed your mind?” 

“Duff…,” Izzy rubbed both hands over his face. 

“No!” Duff exclaimed. “You don’t just get to change your mind because … because of good intentions or whatever. You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for the greater good or whatever bullshit you’ve got inside your mind. You’re just as important as all these people are and I … I … I won’t allow it!”

“You won’t allow it?” Izzy asked, watching his outburst with fascination.

“No!” Duff pulled his eyebrows together. “I won’t allow it. Period.”

And he wouldn’t. Determinedly, he lifted his chin. 

Izzy nodded. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t change my mind.”

“You didn’t?” Duff was taken aback. He had expected a lengthy debate with Izzy being too stubborn to give in and it ending in all of them holding their collective breaths while he did something unspeakably stupid. And then they would pick up the shards after he had taken another step on the road to total self-destruction. 

“No. I didn’t. I won’t use it.”

“Good, that’s … good,” he stuttered. 

“But thanks for confirming my opinion.” Izzy grinned, tired, but he grinned. 

“Yes, that’s … you’re welcome,” Duff said. 

“There’s another way,” Axl said. “If we, Izzy and me, if we combine what power we’ve got, then it should be enough.”

“But that’s good news!” Duff said. “It is, isn’t it? Why isn’t it?” 

He was babbling, he realized, unable to keep his mouth shut, but… so be it. Axl and Izzy were looking worried again. Great. 

“There is a ritual that would allow me to transfer my powers to Axl for … maybe a minute,” Izzy said. “Then it should return to me. At least I hope so. I would be very disappointed if it didn’t.”

“Is that a risk?” Duff asked. “That it doesn’t return?”

Izzy shrugged. “I’ve never done it, but there are a few reports where it stayed with the recipient. Which might be nice for Axl, but not for me.”

“Nice?” Axl said. “Your wacky power skillset? Sorry, I can do without all this … this … dimension crap. I wouldn’t even know how to control all that shit.” He shuddered. “And I would have to leave Foxhill and probably even Britain if I remained on that level.”

“Let’s hope it works out then,” Izzy said. But Duff saw him swallow although he hadn’t put any food into his mouth. 

“Does it…?” Slash asked. “Does it take what I assume it will take?”

Axl nodded, looking glum again. 

Izzy shifted on the bench, putting a spoonful of food into his mouth, but looking as if had happened by accident, and he longed to spit it out again. For a moment Duff expected him to do it, but then he swallowed. 

“What does it take?” he asked. 

“Sex magic,” Slash said. 

“Yep,” Izzy said. 

“Unfortunately, “ Axl said. 

“Oh,” Duff said. 

“All right.” Slash started eating. “Do you want to do it now or do we get time to finish lunch?”

“You don’t mind?” Izzy asked. 

“No, why should I?” Slash looked honestly confused at the question. 

“Jesus, Slash,” Axl said. “Sometimes I feel so loved.”

“It’s just sex, Axl,” Slash said with a soft smile. “It’s got nothing to do with love. But I can bring you a rat tonight, if you feel I’m lacking at showing my love.”

Axl pulled a face. 

“From what I’ve heard, Izzy is quite … accomplished. You might enjoy it.”

Duff thought Axl’s eyes would pop out of his head, but that wasn’t surprising because his own were ready to follow behind. How could Slash just sit there and joke about … He swallowed, but the lump in his throat refused to go down when all of a sudden, he realized what would happen. 

“Are you going to do it?” Duff asked, knowing the reply in advance. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Not ecstatic, so much was clear. And definitely not as nonchalant as Slash. Would it really be ‘just sex’? This were Izzy and Axl and they were as close and as perfect together as two people could be. But if this kept Izzy from using demon-dimension-energy and from destroying his mind and turning into a monster, then it was worth it. Even if it should end with Axl and Izzy together and in love and lust and whatever else they could be. 

“I don’t know,” Izzy said. “We’ve got Slash’s opinion. What is yours?”

“Mine?” Duff asked. 

“Yes, Duff.” Izzy shook his head in mild despair. “It affects you, too. What do you say?”

Duff knew what he thought about it, but he could hardly say so. 

“Do you want to do it?” he asked timidly. 

Izzy laughed. “No!” He cast a fond look into Axl’s direction. “Really not.”

Axl rolled his eyes. “Nobody wants to do this. Except Slash, obviously. But at the moment, it’s the only solution we have. We might find something else if we keep searching, but there is always the risk that some of those who are not dead yet will die. Or that those who are taken over will start their killing spree.”

“Which Is why we wanted to discuss this with you guys,” Izzy said. “Duff?”

Duff thought again. From the way they were talking, they both had made up their mind. They probably had already been through the reasoning a dozen times, had consulted every book they owned and had had the time to come to the conclusion that this was indeed the only way out. This was not a discussion about the pros and cons. They were asking for permission to move forward. 

“What if I say ‘no’?” he asked. 

“Then it’s ‘no’,” Izzy said and Axl nodded. 

Duff sighed. “You know I’m going to say ‘yes’.” 

Izzy tilted his head to the side. “I do,” he said, and smiled a little. 

“So … are we …” he pointed at himself and Slash. “Should we leave now?”

Izzy shook his head. “These rituals take lots of time and preparation and planning and, sadly, …,” 

“You have to come like a freight train,” Slash finished the sentence when Izzy hesitated. 

“Right,” Axl said and again he looked as if he wanted to murder Slash. “Ask the expert, Duff.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Slash was the only one who had finished his meal and now pushed his plate away. “Full orgasmic energy combined to create … something bigger.”

Izzy scrunched his nose and rubbed it between thumb and index finger. “Kind of.”

“I don’t need the details!” Duff said upset. “I just wanted to know when! So that I can be far, far away.”

“Tomorrow,” Izzy said. “In case Axl is female, if not, we just send him back to bed until he gets up female.”

“That’s important?” Duff asked. 

“Sadly, yes,” Axl replied. “All this male-female, yin-yang, bla bla. That’s more Izzy’s cup of tea. I have no idea about this nonsense. He’ll tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

There was something reassuring in the general underwhelmedness everybody exuded, but it was still difficult for Duff to fully arrange himself with the idea. 

“Will it change something between us?” he asked when he later lay in bed with Izzy.

Of course, there wouldn’t be any sex tonight because Izzy had to save all his … resources for the big day. 

“I hope not,” he replied, sounding a bit muffled because his face was buried somewhere inside Duff’s hair. 

Now he shifted and laid his head onto his chest. Duff wrapped his arms tighter around him, still unable to stop waiting for sudden temperature drops. 

“Did you and Axl ever …,” he didn’t finish the sentence. 

Izzy sighed. “Normally, I would say ‘no’, but for the sake of full disclosure: there was this one incident.”

Duff’s heart dropped into his stomach. It spent a lot of time there lately. Sooner or later, it would get digested. Somehow, he had hoped there really hadn’t been any attraction between them because if there was something to rekindle, then after what they were planning to do, it would probably burst up in flames. 

“I would like to start by saying, that I was fully dressed the whole time. I didn’t come either. In fact, I didn’t even get as much as the tiniest bit of friction out of it. Nothing.”

“Then what …” Duff frowned. “That doesn’t sound like sex.”

Izzy snorted. “You could say that. Which is why I would like to say ‘no’. But Axl came, so it probably counts as sex. And, I’m sorry, but that’s all I’m ever going to say about it.”

Duff sighed. “That sounds like bullshit, Izzy.”

“Ask Axl,” Izzy replied. “I have no words to describe what happened that one time. Maybe he has. Axl’s got words for everything. But think twice whether you really want to hear them.”

Great. Now his imagination went into overdrive. But it was reassuring, somehow, because now Izzy was laughing and his breath tickled his skin. 

“I love you, Duff,” he said. “Really. My biggest worry is that I won’t manage to do what I’m supposed to do because … “

“Because what, Izzy?” 

“It’s embarrassing,” Izzy muttered. 

“Good. Then I want to hear it.”

“You’re heartless.” He blew onto his skin, but Duff refused to be distracted. “Because I haven’t had a woman in over ten years.”

“Why is that embarrassing?” Duff asked. He hadn’t had a woman in … ever. 

“Because it is.” Izzy sighed. “I once had this really awesome reputation and now I’m worried I can’t … satisfy Axl. Oh God! Can we please stop talking about this? I’m nervous enough as it is, overanalysing won’t help at all.”

“All right,” Duff said. “Do I get details?” he then asked. “When you’re done!”

“No!” Izzy yelped. “When this is done, I will bury it in the deepest recesses of my mind. I’m willing to open a gate to another dimension to push the memory through.”

Duff snickered. He knew, Izzy was playing it up for his sake, but he appreciated the effort. When he closed his eyes, he was almost at ease with what Izzy and Axl would have to do. Almost. 

The sun was apparently shining with benevolence on them because Axl woke up and was still female. 

Duff had originally planned to go down to the port, but to his surprise, Slash invited him on a stroll. Maybe he wasn’t quite as indifferent regarding what was currently happening at Stakesby Road as he pretended. 

When he had put on his coat, and Izzy dawdled around in the corridor, he grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him firmly onto his mouth. 

“Make him scream, tiger,” he whispered into Izzy’s ear. “And when I come home, you’ll make me scream, too.”

They went up to the cliffs and walked along its edge until they reached the burned down church. Slash briefly shifted into cat to climb up the crumbling walls and have a look at the scar Izzy had left in the ground. It had been hardly more than half a year ago, yet to Duff it felt aeons in the past. 

“How long will it take?” he asked, when they were having lunch at the pub. 

“No idea,” Slash said. “But I don’t think you want to come home early, so we’ll better play it safe.” 

It was close to nightfall when they returned. Duff would have liked to take a detour to the pub for a few beers, but Slash had claimed that no cat in the history of time had ever stayed uninterruptedly awake for as long as he had managed today. 

“If they are not done by now, then they won’t manage at all,” he said, and Duff had to admit that, while Izzy did have stamina, ten hours was a bit much. Even counting in all the time, they would need for all their preparations, they should be done. Or have given up. 

His stomach still insisted on hurting when he turned the key in the door and entered. The house lay still and dark. As usual, Slash didn’t bother to turn on the light and left it to Duff to stagger around and search for matches. For unknown reasons he sneaked on tiptoes into the corridor to hang up his coat and hat. 

The air smelled strongly of incense, overlayed by something sweet and flowery. No sex scent, thank God. Carefully, as if afraid to wake a sleeping baby, he opened the door to the library. He had expected it to be empty, but there was Izzy lying on the couch, looking a bit tired and a bit pale and … unbelievably clean. 

Rituals like that always started with a shitload of washing, and cleansing and getting rid of anything that sounded impure, he had explained, as if that was the worst part of the whole ordeal. 

“Hey,” Duff said and Izzy sat up. He joined him and couldn’t help himself but wipe freshly washed hair away from his face. It was so soft in his fingers, he had difficulties to let go. 

“Did it work?” he asked. 

Izzy pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it into Duff’s lap. It was the snake. He almost shrieked and knocked it to the ground, but instead, he picked it up and ran his fingers over the body. 

“It’s just some stupid trinket now,” Izzy said. “You should have seen it. Axl was … all glowing. I mean, literally. I’m surprised nobody knocked at the door to find out if our house was burning down.”

Duff put the statuette onto the table. “Your magic?” he asked. “You’ve got it back?”

Izzy tilted his head to the side. “Would you still love me if I didn’t?” 

But then he laid the fingertips of his right hand onto Duff’s forehead and Duff felt the familiar tingle of power. 

“All good.” He rolled his head from one side to the other, as if working kinks out of his neck muscles. “But, Duff?”

“Yes.” 

Duff didn’t know what he was feeling. Relief, of course. But something else. Something soft and tender and maybe deeper than the wild, untamed love he had experienced so far. Izzy had always seemed so strong to him. So powerful and mighty and magical. Over the last few weeks, he had realized that, while he was all that, there was something fragile about him. Breakable like glass. So easily hurt. Yet he kept putting himself into the line of fire all the time. It wasn’t surprising that his soul had so many cracks to show. Had he really once felt inferior to his lover? Now all he wanted to do was keep him safe from future damage. 

Izzy chewed his lip. “I don’t think I’ll manage to make you scream tonight.”

Duff chuckled. “Doesn’t matter,” he whispered, and kissed him onto lips that were swollen from too many kisses. “I’d much rather stay silent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we are, pretty much. All that is left is a bit of epilogue. Two, as usual. :)


	25. Magicked

It took days until Duff felt ready to relax. His whole body was still primed to expect disaster every moment and each frown from Izzy or critical look from Axl caused his stomach to drop. When Constable Carter paid them another visit, he almost suffered a heart attack. Yet he only wanted to inform them that the case was officially closed. There were some inquiries to find out who had packed the snake into the shipment, but it was not likely to yield any results. Not even a motive. Whether it was a personal vendetta or caused by anti-colonial sentiment was not likely to be discovered. 

Izzy shrugged it off. 

“Magical Items of that power level tend to develop agency,” he said. “Then somebody picks them up and puts them into a box, but if you ask them later why they had done that, they won’t have an answer for you. Sometimes they don’t even remember.”

He was not overly concerned with black magic in India. He was busy enough with his local council because he had informed them that he would not take any more official cases. They hadn’t been happy and tried to press him back into service. 

To Duff’s delight, The Case of the Cursed Snake had hit the local newspaper, and all of a sudden it became fashionable to suspect a ghost in the house or a demonic possession in one’s unruly offspring. People whispered to one another about this bad-tempered, but roguishly handsome wizard and his charming and good-looking assistant, who would take care of issues like that. 

It was ‘useless crap’ as Izzy called it, but it paid well and as Izzy was Izzy, he wasn’t above letting Slash loose to take care of a few rats in the attic, and pretend he had slain a poltergeist. Being the foster son of a professional scammer was paying off once again. It would dry up when the next fad hit society, but money was less tight for a change and Izzy passed ten percent of the sudden increase on to his dutiful assistant. Never in his life had Duff felt so rich.

Dr Rowland wasn’t quite as lucky. Lack of patients had forced him to give up the surgery in Heatherfield. Instead, he had opened a new one in a less prestigious quarter of Whittlingsfield. He was the only doctor of the whole town who didn’t consider it beneath himself to treat magical people. 

Life should be good, as far as Duff was concerned, but Izzy remained melancholic. 

“Give it time,” Axl had said. “Nothing you can do. Usually, the clouds lift after a few weeks.”

But no such luck. 

“Izzy?” Duff asked one night. He twitched because Izzy was raking his teeth over one of his nipples, and while it felt good, it reminded him of something else that had been bothering him. 

“Yes?” Izzy mumbled without stopping. 

“You still haven’t used magic on me. During sex, I mean.” 

Outside sex they had practiced a lot and Duff was able to reliably reject about two dozen of the most common, mind-altering spells. 

Izzy stopped and rolled off him. 

“I mean,” Duff said, “you were all excited about it. And now … not that I’m complaining, I mean, it’s great as it is. I was just wondering why?”

Izzy sat up, rested his chin on his updrawn knees, and wrapped his arms around his legs. 

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” he mumbled. 

Duff crawled up to the headboard, too, and leant against him. Izzy let his head sink onto his shoulder.

“Why not?”

“Because … I think it’s better if I stop using magic when I’m not fully clear about what I’m doing. And sex with you, that gets me … quite emotional.” He smiled wryly. 

Duff remembered Axl’s little speech about ‘emotional turmoil’. 

“You’re worried you might use demon magic on me?” Duff asked. 

If he was honest, he had expected something down that line. Ever since the bite, Izzy was extremely careful with how and where he used magic. He had even started using matches, most of the time. And more than once he had seen him rub his wrist, where the marks from Claudius’ teeth refused to fade. 

Izzy shrugged. “There’s something I didn’t tell you,” he said. “About that night when I slipped into trance.”

‘Here we go again,’ Duff thought and braced himself for another disaster. Of course, feeling at ease for a change could only be considered careless. 

“I had a vision. The first one in years.”

“What was it about?” Duff asked. Axl had once said that Izzy’s visions were only ever horrific. 

“I was in some type of library. Shelves filled to the brim with books. And I was watching myself, which is unusual. Normally I am me and watching the scene, but here I was watching myself. In a mirror, I think. Or through a window. Not sure. I could only see a part of the room.”

Izzy gave him a speculative look, and Duff nodded, telling him to go on. 

“I was sitting at a table and reading. Then somebody was approaching me from behind and he put a hand onto my shoulder. I couldn’t see who it was, just the hand. I … the other I looked up and wasn’t surprised or anything. I smiled at the person. I mean, not like I was overly happy to see him, just … like you do when somebody familiar comes in.”

Another questioning look and Duff nodded again. 

Izzy took a deep breath. “Then he bowed down over the book, too and his face came into view. It was Claudius.”

Duff waited for him to continue, but nothing came. 

“And?” he asked. 

“It was a vision,” Izzy said. “This scene I described … it will happen.”

“And?” Duff repeated. “I mean, you didn’t do anything evil. You were reading a book.” 

“I was in the same room with Claudius. And he touched me like we were best friends.”

“And?” Duff asked again. 

But Izzy clearly expected him to flee screaming from the room. 

“Look, Izzy. This might be anything. Take … take our last meeting with him. You may not have noticed because you were all engulfed in magic and mystery, but there were moments when you and Axl and Claudius all looked like you were best friends. If you had seen that moment in a vision, you would have assumed that we had all gone mad and joined a vampire nest. This … this might be something similar. I can imagine that he does have a huge library and that you might for whatever reason have to contact him and ask him to see one of his books. And it’s no secret that he has plans for you, so giving you access and pretending to be all friendly, that doesn’t surprise me either. It can be ... Really, Izzy it might be nothing.”

“Or it might be that I’ll go rogue,” Izzy said. 

“That’s why you censor yourself?” Duff asked. “You said again and again how hard it was for you to never be able to use your full potential. And now you restrict yourself even further? Because of a vision that might be totally harmless?”

“My visions are never harmless,” Izzy muttered, and his fingers stumbled to the bitemarks. 

“Izzy!” Duff took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t let that bastard win. Not by giving in to his stupid temptations, but also not by making yourself small.”

Izzy didn’t reply. 

“All right.” Duff climbed out of bed. “I’m back in a minute.”

He went up to his attic and returned with the little box he had been hiding for over a week now. 

“Here,” he said and handed it over. 

Izzy opened it and looked full of confusion at the amulet. 

“An obeidantor?” he asked. “What for? Do you want to use it on me?” 

“No,” Duff said. “I want you to use it on me. You said it could be fun.”

Izzy closed the box. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Duff took it out of his hands and opened it again. “Axl looked at me as if I had lost my mind,” he admitted. “But he gave it to me.”

Izzy pulled his lips into weird shapes until Duff hoped his face wouldn’t accidentally get stuck like that. 

“Admit it,” he said. “You would love to use it on me.”

“I told you, I only take as good as I give,” Izzy replied. 

Duff shrugged. “I’m asking you to do it, not the other way round. You might think this is this huge sacrifice on my side, but really? If you’re in control, then I expect you to … how do you like to put it … make me howl in ecstasy.”

Izzy grinned, a little lopsided, but at least he didn’t reject the suggestion right away. 

“I trust you, Izzy,” Duff said. He turned the box over and the amulet fell into Izzy’s lap. “No matter how emotional you get or how much magic you use on me. You will never do anything that might hurt me.”

“You sure?” Izzy asked. 

Duff nodded. 

Hesitantly Izzy picked up the amulet. He held it up and it dangled down from its chain. A pretty, pale green gemstone with red sprinkles. Then he raised his other hand and laid it against Duff’s forehead. 

“What…,” Duff asked when fingers searched for the right spots in a way that was so familiar to him. 

“Hshsh,” Izzy made, and then, just when he removed his hand, he let the amulet fall into Duff’s lap. 

“You discharged it,” Duff said when he picked it up. How disappointing. It was embarrassing, but he had looked forward to this. 

“No,” Izzy replied. “I just changed the priming. I’ve set it for you.”

“But…,” Confused he looked up. “You said you would never allow anybody to switch you off like that.”

“That’s what I said.”

“But?”

Izzy shrugged. “I trust you, I suppose. Oh, and don’t worry. I may not be overly good with amulets, but I can recharge an obediantor. We can use that bastard for as often as we want.” He grinned. “And I have brilliant ideas about how to use it on you.”

“So…,” Duff’s face lit up until his cheeks hurt. “I only go first?”

“Depends. One could say, I’m going first. I mean, you’re in control, so I expect you to make me howl your name in ecstasy.”

Hesitantly, suddenly not sure if this was really a good idea, Duff lifted the amulet. 

“Touch!” he said. 

And Izzy obeyed.


	26. Epilogue

Izzy wasn’t surprised when Axl cornered him in the kitchen and told him they had to talk. In fact, he was surprised it had taken so long. But he assumed that Axl had had to come to a decision first. 

“Your room?” he asked. 

Axl nodded. 

“The cat is out?”

Another nod. 

“Good.” The last he needed was having anybody eavesdrop into the conversation and Slash’s ears were sharper than was convenient sometimes. 

They headed upstairs and Izzy closed the door behind himself. Axl sat on the bed, face pale and earnest. 

“You already know, don’t you?” he asked. 

Izzy nodded. “I noticed the split in your aura a few days ago.” 

As if he hadn’t grown suspicious when Axl remained female day in day out. 

“How could this happen?” Axl asked. 

Izzy sighed. How should he know? But if Axl needed him to make up an explanation, he would give him one. 

“I assume, when we channelled all that power, it cancelled any other type of magic that was around. Including whatever magic affects your shifting. I mean, I thought I would go up in flames when the energy from the statue burned through me like I was some stupid lightning rod.”

“That’s bullshit, Izzy,” Axl said mildly. 

Izzy stifled a grin. “Do you want me to say that I have no idea what happened?”

Axl frowned and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had always been so easy to bait. 

“I want you to take this seriously. What are we even going to do?”

That was actually a good question, Izzy thought. One he had no answer for, and so he shrugged. 

“Awesome,” Axl looked out of the window. “So what? I’m alone in this?”

“Whatever you are, you are not alone,” Izzy said. 

He itched for a cigarette, but Axl always made a ruckus when he smoked inside the house. He claimed the smoke messed up his experiments, which was total nonsense. He just didn’t like it. 

“I mean, in the end, it’s your decision of course. But whatever you do decide, I’ll support it, I guess.”

“You guess?” Axl’s frown deepened. “You better be bloody sure.”

“Right.” Izzy scratched his neck. “Let me put it like this. We both know that having me as a father is not what anybody would wish on a child, but if you decide to keep it, I promise to be there and do my best.”

“Until you run off.”

“I won’t.”

Axl didn’t look convinced and Izzy couldn’t blame him. He had a rapport of running away from trouble. But he had also been a parentless child and he would never do something like that to his own offspring. 

“What will Duff say?” 

“Duff?” He pretended that the thought had never crossed his mind, when in fact, he had thought a lot about it. Without a final result. But he had needed Axl to address the question before he could talk to him. “You know Duff. He gets totally upset about trivialities. Like how much I’m eating or not eating. And then you present him with some major disaster and he just shrugs it off. Duff will be all right.” At least he hoped so. They were on such good terms lately and he wanted it to stay that way. 

Axl’s hands sank into his lap, as he relaxed. Being alone in this had really been weighing on his mind. There was Slash, of course, but Slash was a cat and would have a hard time taking responsibility for a child that was his own. But from somebody else? He wouldn’t be bothered, but he would not jump in to take on a parent role. 

“It can be over any day anyway,” Axl said. “One gender shift and it’s over.”

“Nothing we can do about that.” Izzy sat down next to him. “Do you … do you want to have it? I mean, as in … are you happy it happened?” 

Would he be devastated if he lost it due to a shift? This might as well be the only chance Axl ever got. 

Axl eyed his fingers. “I don’t know. It was always clear that it wouldn’t happen. And, to be honest, I was glad it wasn’t an option. If I think about it now? No, I’m not happy. A child conceived during a ritual to get rid of demonic energy. How much did it absorb?”

“Not much,” Izzy said. “As far as I can say.”

“You can’t know that,” Axl protested. 

“Oh yes, I can.” Izzy stifled another grin, a very smug one. “I felt the whole goddamn blast burn through me. I would recognize that type of energy anywhere. If there are leftovers, they are minimal.”

“You are not saying this to calm me down?” Axl asked. 

Izzy shook his head. And he didn’t. The energy from the statuette was gone. He rather thought that it was their combined powers that had played havoc on Axl’s body. 

“She will be fine.” Izzy wrapped an arm around Axl’s shoulder and hugged him. “There are probably a lot of things to worry about, but demon power isn’t one of them.”

“She?” Axl asked. “It’s far too early for you to say.”

“I know. But I’m sure. And you know, I’m never wrong when it comes to these things.”

“Really?” Axl asked. “She?”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “She.”

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Done! Yay!
> 
> Thanks to all of you who read till the end. Will there be another one to clarify the open questions? I do have ideas and I would love to, but I don't like to promise something if I'm not sure I can keep it. 
> 
> I hope you still had fun. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This awesome fanart was made by desperate_for_updates
> 
> https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/11E6CaiQ_wbl-gqvmV80ASik-7Vihj5N5?usp=sharing
> 
> And from sweetcherrypop
> 
> https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1wq9soUHMgFmi-ho-8yhtzCn4r65CBGmv?usp=sharing


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